


The Chilling Adventures of Steve Rogers: Yule Bonus (Magical Hydra Horror AU)

by loveforpreserumsteve



Series: The Chilling Adventures of Steve Rogers [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, F/M, Hydra (Marvel), Hydra Steve Rogers, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 21,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22563064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveforpreserumsteve/pseuds/loveforpreserumsteve
Summary: "Steve turned, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before he looked up at Bucky. The way that Bucky looked at him sent a chill down his spine. Completely taken every time that Bucky looked at him like that. And the thing that surprised Steve the most was that Bucky wasn't looking at him any differently than the way he normally did. Steve didn't know how he had missed the softness in his gaze all those years. How he could overlook the obvious adoration.Tenderly taking Steve's face in his large hand, Bucky leaned in. Slowly, until finally his lips touched Steve's. Lighting Steve up like a live wire, with just the barest of touches. How could someone have such an affect over another  person's life."-Modern Stucky AU-Language and other mature content-My first angst fic, so fingers crossed it goes well!***I don't own Marvel or the characters of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, nor any of the other Marvel characters
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Thor, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Series: The Chilling Adventures of Steve Rogers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1495841
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> To keep up-to-date with everything that's going on in my life, my fics, and to see cute pictures of my pets, be sure to follow me on [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/loveforpreserumsteve/)
> 
> I've also self-published [Call It What You Want](https://www.amazon.com/Call-What-Want-Minnie-Nicole/dp/1986446255/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=call+it+what+you+want+minnie+nicole&qid=1601172728&sr=8-1)
> 
> And if you would like some to purchase some merch based off of loveforpreserumsteve fanfics and Minnie Nicole Books, you can get them at [The Fanfic Was Better](https://teespring.com/stores/thefanficwasbetter)
> 
> Much love and appreciation  
> Minnie ❤❤❤

**One:**

_Large fluffy flakes fell from the sky. Not the packing kind, but the pretty kind. As much as Steve wanted to be disappointed that there wouldn't be any snow-play, he couldn't muster any of it up. Instead, he found himself content with just sitting on the Wilson sofa. A mug of hot chocolate warming his palms, and Bucky's arm around his shoulders warming his soul._

_As_ Home Alone _played on the TV and Sharon shared the theory of how Kevin grew up to be Jigsaw, Steve rigidly sat there. His mind preoccupied with Bucky. Or rather, preoccupied with how to lure Bucky over to the archway where the mistletoe was hung._

_Blushing, Steve ducked his head and finished his sugary drink that fogged up his thick glasses. Sure, Bucky was officially his boyfriend, but they hadn't been dating for very long. And more than that, they hadn't kissed in front of many people._

_Not that Sam and Sharon were_ many people _._

_Deciding that now might be his shot, seeing as Sam was busy trying to get the sticky marshmallows off his braces and Sharon was busy with her morbid theories. It was either now or never._

_So, Steve stood from his seat. A little dizzy from the movement. Or maybe it was the way that Bucky placed his hands on his slender hips to help steady him._ Yeah, that's probably it _, Steve embarrassingly admitted to himself. Only causing his blush to spread to the tips of his ears while he hoped that no one was paying attention to him._

_Unfortunately, Bucky had always been a bit too perceptive. Especially when it came to Steve, himself. Being able to read him like a book. Sometimes even being able to read him better than Hildy._

_Of course, the pair had always been glued to the hip. So, since Steve was heading for the kitchen, Bucky followed. With each step closer to the archway, the tighter the knots in Steve's stomach wound. Would Bucky kiss him under the mistletoe?_

_Briefly, Steve wondered if he should slow his pace. Silently make it known that he_ wanted _Bucky to kiss him. Wondering if Bucky would pick up on his hints though. Of course, Bucky was more perceptive. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd assume that he possessed a cunning akin to Hildy._

_Glancing up at the archway, Steve's heart stuttered. Especially when Bucky tenderly took his hand in his. Giving Steve's slender hand an affectionate squeeze, voicelessly answering Steve's unspoken question._

_Steve turned, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before he looked up at Bucky. The way that Bucky looked at him sent a chill down his spine. Completely taken every time that Bucky looked at him like_ that _. And the thing that surprised Steve the most was that Bucky wasn't looking at him any differently than the way he normally did. Steve didn't know how he had missed the softness in his gaze all those years. How he could overlook the obvious adoration._

_Tenderly taking Steve's face in his large hand, Bucky leaned in. Slowly, until finally his lips touched Steve's. Lighting Steve up like a live wire, with just the barest of touches. How could someone have such an affect over another --_

Hearing bare feet hit the cold tile floor woke Steve. His eyes instantly snapping open as he reached towards the end table for his glasses. Only to not feel them beside him and to slowly remember that he didn't need them anymore.

_It takes time to get used to_ , Steve reminded himself just as he had every day for the past month and a half. Bringing his hand back to himself, Steve rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Perhaps a little harsher than necessary, but as the tears started building the way that they had been ever since his terrigenesis, he needed to stop them somehow. Knowing exactly what his roommates would do to him if they caught sight of that weakness.

Sitting, Steve swung his legs around towards the edge of the bed. With his feet flat on the floor, he repressed a shiver. Was it just him, or was it colder today?

Noting how his roommates were casually joking with each other, shirtless, Steve figured that it was just him.

All the while Brock brought Jack in for a headlock and started aggressively mussing his brown hair. Steve's scalp started aching in sympathy, but he refused to show even so much as a wince. Getting better each day that he fixed an unamused, bored expression on his face. Knowing that Uncle Loki would be proud of him, Steve crossed the room and started pulling his clothes out for the day.

Admittedly, Steve was running out of clean clothes. Sure, he still didn't own a lot of clothing that fit his now larger, muscular frame. But he still needed to take them home to wash.

_Home_ , Steve remembered, his heart aching in its longing. Ever since that night, Steve had been avoiding his home. Not wanting to remember all the good times that he had with Bucky. Not wanting to remember the absolutely crushed expression that had stuck to Bucky's face when he made the toughest decision of his --

Steve shook his head. Hoping that he could shake the memory right out of his head. He really didn't need to think about _that_.

"Hey, Odinson," Brock called, tugging a shirt over his head.

Sighing, Steve turned around to face him. Unamused that Brock refused to call him by his actual name. Clenching his hands into fists as he attempted to contain the anger that bubbled in him whenever he was reminded just how narrow-minded and bigoted his roommates were.

"What?" Steve asked, wanting Brock to get right to the point. Crossing the room towards the bathroom where he promptly started to get rid of his morning breath.

"Ya got plans for the holidays?" Brock questioned. A hint of sincerity seeped out in his usually smug tone, causing Steve to briefly paused in his movements. Of course, then Brock added, "Since ya know, we don't really want _you_ hanging around here and ruining our fun."

Rolling his eyes, Steve spit the foamy dregs into the sink, rinsed his toothbrush and headed back over to the wardrobe. Ignoring his roommates, Steve changed out of his sleep shirt. The once baggy material now almost a perfect fit on his new frame. Something else he had to get used to. Not giving himself a chance to, however, as he quickly pulled on his sweater.

"Well, lucky for you --" _and unlike you_ "-- I _do_ have plans," Steve coolly answered, buttoning his jeans. They were just a little long for his frame since they were Uncle Thor's, but they got the job done.

"Aren't you special," Brock sneered, leading the two quieter roommates out of the room.

Letting out a deep sigh, Steve grabbed his stuffed bag and left his room too. Ready to leave this place and go home.


	2. Two

**Two:**

Exiting the boys' wing, Steve paused. Giving the commotion in the lobby a cursory glance as he watched parents gather their children and their luggage. It was odd, Steve concluded. The teens seeming younger in that moment in front of their parents instead of the way that Steve had known them. Of course, Steve had hoped that they weren't as awful with their families as they were with him. But it was still a strange thing to witness.

"You keep glaring at them like that, you're never gonna make any friends," a familiar voice rasped.

Turning to find the owner, Steve found Natasha sitting on a bench with a thick novel in hand. She kept her gaze on the book in front of her, but the quirk of her plump lips, proved that it wasn't the only thing that she had been paying attention to. He should've figured though considering the only other person he had met who as perceptive as her was --

Steve shook his head, not wanting to go there just yet. At least, not in a busy place like how the academy was today. So, instead, Steve took a seat beside Natasha and teased, "Who says I wanna make friends?"

"Oh, that's right," Natasha wet the tip of her finger before turning the page, "You're popular with the mortals."

Ignoring the sting in his chest, Steve rolled his eyes as he playfully corrected, "Never said I was popular."

"Never said you weren't either," Natasha good-humoredly argued, never removing her gaze.

Not even when a squeal broke through the commotion and regained Steve's own attention. Across from them on the other side of the lobby, one of their classmates was being spun around in an intimate embrace as she buried her face in her muscular boyfriend's neck. It was everything that Steve had once had. Everything that Steve still wanted. Nothing that he could have.

Shoulders slumping, Steve disguised it as dropping his bag on the floor beside him. Directing his gaze back to Natasha, he noticed that she didn't have any luggage of her own. Sure, Natasha had been fairly secretive about her personal life. But surely, she wasn't going to be stuck at the academy for the holidays.

"Aren't you going home?" Steve innocently asked.

"This is home," Natasha answered, turning another page with her damp fingertip.

Steve's brows furrowed, "Won't your family miss you?"

Nothing about her expression revealed anything that she didn't want known. But she did meet Steve's gaze. Under her cool stare, Steve repressed a shiver. Especially when she calmly replied, "I don't have a family."

And although every cell in his new, still strangely foreign body, was urging him to soothe the situation, Steve bit back his apology. Knowing that Natasha hated nothing more than being pitied. Even though they hadn't known each other for long, Steve had known this like Natasha had carved it into his bones.

In his periphery, Steve spotted his roommates. Not wanting Natasha to have to stay at the academy with _them_ \-- or at all -- Steve offered, "Come home with me."

That had caught Natasha off-guard as much as it had caught Steve. Her perfectly sculpted brow quirked. The only tell that she was going to express concerning her intrigue. She just studied Steve for a moment, and Steve wasn't sure what she was finding there. He tried to seem collected as he sat there, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous.

Natasha just had something to her that flayed Steve, exposing secrets that even he didn't know he held.

After a moment, Natasha closed her book. That one gesture was enough of an answer in of itself. Yet, as Natasha set the novel on her lap, she informed, "I'm not a charity case."

A chill ran down Steve's no longer scoliosis riddled spine at the unspoken threat, and he quickly reassured her, "I know." Natasha's eyes narrowed in the briefest of movements as she evaluated him. So, Steve took a chance and teased, "But I am."

That seemed to be the right move because a genuine small grin tugged at her plump red lips as she agreed, "No arguing there."

"So," Steve confirmed, "Ya coming home with me?"

"Don't have anything else to do," Natasha solidified as she stood from the bench. Before Steve could stand up too, Natasha handed him the novel that she had been reading and said, "I'll pack a bag."

Nodding, Steve attempted to bite back his grin as Natasha turned to walk down the girls' wing. Looking down at the book in his hands, Steve gently stroked his thumb over the smooth cover. His brows furrowing as he tried to decipher the title, but not knowing the language.

"Taking up Russian?" One of the most familiar voices in Steve's life playfully questioned.

Snapping his head up to look at his cousin, Steve immediately hopped up from the bench to wrap his arms around Hildy. The new height difference threatening to send Steve through a loop, but he pushed all those feelings down to the pit of his stomach. Hildy wrapped her arms around his trim waist while he held her tight around her strong shoulders.

"I hope this means you forgive me," Hildy teased as she rested her head on Steve's now broad shoulder.

Steve rolled his eyes at that. He had never been angry with Hildy to begin with, and even though he knew that she knew that, he still felt the need to voice, "Nothing to forgive ya for, Hil. It wasn't you who did… _that_."

"Well, that's reassuring," Hildy smirked. Leaning back, she made sure to kiss Steve's cheek. Sure, it might not have been the same as it used to be, but it was comforting all the same. Pulling back, Hildy reached for his bag as she assumed, "Ready to go?"

Looking down at the novel in his hands, Steve pressed his lips together. Trying to figure out how to ask for permission to let Natasha stay for the holiday while leaving no wiggle room for the invitation to be declined. Glancing over his shoulder to see if Natasha was on her way back to them, Steve redirected his attention to his cousin and sheepishly admitted, "Not exactly."

"What do you mean?" Hildy's brows furrowed now, looking over Steve. Studying him the way that she had his entire life when she was trying to spot any deceit.

"I, uh," Steve swallowed, wishing the words would come to him quicker. When they didn't, Steve decided to go for the simple, "I invited a friend."

Many emotions flashed across Hildy's face too quickly for Steve to decipher them. Finally, Hildy landed on curious as she questioned, "Yeah?"

"Yup," Steve nodded, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. He wasn't even sure why he was feeling embarrassed. Natasha was his friend. And even then, they weren't that close of friends. Sure, she had saved him those first few nights that he had been at the academy. But that didn't mean anything except that Natasha was a good --

"Ya ready?" Natasha naturally raspy voice interrupted his thoughts.

Turning to find her with a blood red duffle bag slung over her shoulder, Steve nodded his confirmation as he assured, "Yeah."

"Good," Natasha nodded, a small smile on her face as she looked between Steve and Hildy. Holding out her hand towards her, Natasha introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Natasha."

"Hildy," she smiled, taking Natasha's hand and briefly shaking it. Letting Natasha's hand drop, Hildy gestured over her shoulder and asked the pair, "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Steve answered, following behind his cousin and giving Natasha a sideways glance. When Natasha caught him, Steve's cheeks flamed even more and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Not knowing why his body reacted that way to begin with, Steve hoped that since he didn't know what was going on, Natasha wouldn't be able to figure it out either.

Of course, Steve wasn't going to hold his breath. After all, it didn't work out the first time he went through something like this. And Natasha was almost as perceptive as…


	3. Three

**Three:**

"Buck, get the hell up!" Teddy demanded, pulling the comforter off of a sleeping Bucky.

But that wasn't particularly unusual. All Bucky seemed to be doing was sleeping. Not that Bucky cared. It was winter vacation after all, and all he wanted to do was to bury himself in his bedding and hibernate. So, he immediately twisted his body in the most comfortable way he could without having to move too much, and grabbed his covers. Bringing them back up over his body. Deciding at the last minute to pull them over his head, too.

Sighing, Teddy sat down on the edge of the bed and reminded, "You can't mope forever."

 _Watch me_ , an inner voice that sounded suspiciously like Steve, said somewhere deep within himself. He didn't say it out loud though. He didn't have the energy to. His whole body felt numb in his heartbreak. The only person that Bucky wanted to talk about the situation with was the one person that had put him there in the first place.

Squeezing his eyes closed, Bucky begged for the tears to stop building. He thought that the well had dried up. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case though as his tears kept coming, much to his chagrin.

Rolling onto his side, Bucky tried to make himself as small as possible. Rubbing at his eyes as he tried to stop the tears. Or at least, make it seem less obvious. But nothing was working and now the snot was starting to run from his nose. Annoyed, he sniffled as nonchalantly as he could with Teddy still sitting there on his bed beside him.

"It'll be okay," Teddy offered, trying to help the best he could.

Bucky wanted to tell him he couldn't. That nothing could. That Steve didn't want him anymore. Bucky harshly squeezed his eyes tightly closed, trying not to think about _that_ , but his mind was already there. Already thinking about the way Steve's slender frame fit perfectly against his. Thinking about how easy it was to lift him into his arms just to see him smile. He'd do anything to see Steve smile.

He'd do anything for Steve, period.

But now things were different. _Steve_ was different. And now Bucky was trying to hold on without him. Always knowing that Steve was the glue that held him together, but never realizing just how broken he was without him until now.

"Isn't tonight that holiday movie night at Sam's?" Teddy perked, clearly still trying to get him out of bed.

Was tonight Sam's annual, "Hoe For The Holidays," movie night? Bucky realized that he didn't even know what day it was. All he knew was that he didn't have school and he could wallow in his pain by himself.

Well, almost by himself.

"C'mon," Teddy playfully nudged him as he chuckled, "Ya tellin' me that you're just gonna miss out on Sam makin' a fool outta himself?"

At that, Bucky slowly pulled the comforter down. Not much. Still concealed from the nose down. But he allowed himself to look at his brother, despite his puffy, red-rimmed, tear-stained eyes. What he found wasn't exactly what he expected -- nor wanted -- to see from his brother, since Teddy looked sad too. And that was the last thing that Bucky wanted to see from his older brother.

Rolling onto his back, he pulled the comforter down a bit more to release his arms. A shiver ran through him and a few wayward tears escaped from his eyes. And that just wouldn't do, so Bucky pushed the heels of his hands and rubbed at his eyes, trying to calm himself. If not for himself, than for Teddy.

Taking in a deep breath, it stuttered into his lungs. _Just like the wobbly, uneven way that Steve's used to_. Bucky had to grind his teeth harshly together to stop the new tears from falling.

Deciding that maybe the bathroom would be a better place for his mini-meltdown of the day, Bucky shot upright. Startling Teddy at his fast movement, but not caring. Kicking the twisted comforter and sheets from his legs, he stumbled out of bed. Only missing cracking his head open on the corner of his desk thanks to Teddy, catching his arm and steadying him.

"Easy," Teddy warned, like the compassionate older brother that he was.

Bucky brushed off Teddy's concern, and swatted at his big hands on his bicep as he rushed out of his bedroom towards the bathroom. Closing the bathroom door a little too harshly behind himself, but choosing not to worry about it. Not even when Winifred called for them to be careful with the doors.

Grasping onto the sink, Bucky forced himself to take in a deep breath. The same way that he'd encourage --

 _Nope, not going there_ , Bucky shook his head. If he wanted to pull himself together, he definitely needed to stop thinking about _him_.

So, Bucky forced himself to look at himself in the mirror. Bucky had always been on the vain side of life. Taking pride in his appearance, so he'd look good. Even transforming the annoyance he felt for the girls at school who constantly complimented him with googly eyes into satisfaction that he was able to look good for his boyfriend…

Now, though? Dark circles were tattooed into his skin, seemingly permanent because lord knows that all he had been doing was sleeping. His tousled hair stuck in different directions in its hay-like unwashed way. When was the last time that he had showered? Two days ago? Three? Maybe the patchy stubble on his jaw held the answers.

 _Jesus_ , Bucky berated himself, aggressively scrubbing his hand over his face, _No wonder Steve left_.

Only deep down, even Bucky knew that wasn't true. He knew what had happened. He knew Steve's reasons. He knew that it was supposed to be for his own good. But how in the hell could _this_ be good for either of them. Bucky only hoped that Steve was doing better than he was.


	4. Four

**Four:**

"Little one!" Thor happily boomed as soon as Steve stepped out of Hildy's dark blue 69 VW Beetle.

Lifting the seat up for Natasha, Steve turned to face the Odinson house. Standing there on the large porch was Uncle Thor. His longer blond hair twisted back into a messy bun at the nape of his head and a large smile on his face. Steve didn't realize how much he missed him until that very moment, seeing him in a deep red sweater.

Instead of rushing over to Thor -- and his strong embrace -- like he wanted to, Steve playfully corrected, "Not so little anymore."

"Nonsense!" Thor boisterously argued, "You'll always be my little --"

Thor cut himself off once he spotted Natasha. His brows furrowing just a bit and Steve wondered if he should've called. Gave his family a warning. But it was too late to do that now. So, instead, he led Natasha up to the large Odinson house and antique shop.

"This is Natasha," Steve gestured at the petite redhead and introduced, "This is my Uncle Thor."

"Nice to meet you," Natasha smiled. Not the small, private one that she had often shared at school. Something stronger, more secure as she shook Thor's large hand and complimented, "I've heard a lot about you."

Steve's brows furrowed, not remembering talking too much about his family. If he was being completely honest, he hadn't talked much at the academy at all. He supposed that he had been just as private with his life as Natasha had been about her own.

Thor quirked a brow at Steve, and Steve schooled his expression into a fond smile. Letting go of Natasha's hand, he stated, "It's always nice to meet one of Stevie's friends."

Leading the teens and Hildy inside the house, Steve couldn't help the blush that quickly spread over his skin at the way Natasha smirked at him. Knowing that he'd never hear the end of it. Little one and Stevie. Two nicknames for the price of one. And he was sure that Natasha would use both of them to her advantage.

Then, Natasha turned her attention for Steve to the house. There were antiques strewn about, just like any other time. But now Steve was looking at the show rooms differently. What did Natasha think of it? What did it look like to her?

Rather than question her, Steve took their bags from Hildy and gestured for Natasha to follow him. Nearly taking the steps two at a time to get away from his family's prying eyes as they studied the pair. For a moment, Steve wondered if this was a mistake.

However, once he reached his bedroom and remembered all the times that he had with Bucky on his bed, he was glad that he wasn't alone. Finding a little relief that Natasha was there to save him once again. Even if she didn't know she was doing it.

"So," Natasha started, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Steve opened his closet to -- Well, he actually didn't know why. None of the hanging clothes fit him anymore. And he couldn't necessarily hang his clothes from the academy up since they needed to be washed. Rather than look like a dumbass though, Steve simply pushed the bags into the closet and closed the door. Taking a moment to gather himself before turning back to look at Natasha.

Natasha who was affectionately scratching Tutti between the ears. When she noticed that Steve was facing her again, she casually accused, "You never mentioned that your family deals so closely with mortals."

Rolling his eyes, Steve teased, "Don't worry, you're not gonna catch cooties."

"Not so sure about that," Natasha smirked. Tilting her chin towards the door, she asked, "Is it common to take in possessions of the dead?"

Steve blushed and tried to explain, "You don't have to worry about spirits. Uncle Loki takes care of them."

"Then, who's that?" Natasha quirked her brow and pointed towards the bathroom.

A chill ran down Steve's spine. Although he wanted to play it cool, he found his heart racing. Before his terrigenesis, Steve had dealt with more spirits than he wanted to. And he wasn't sure which one would still be haunting him.

Mustering up all the courage he could while seeming unfazed, Steve kept his gaze off Natasha entirely. Forcing himself to look beside him in the open doorway to his bathroom. The hairs on the back of his neck stuck up and he knew he needed to keep his eyes open, even if he wanted nothing more than to close them. He wanted nothing more than to turn back around and leave his room.

What if it was a man in a crisp white lab coat? What if it was Alveus making another appearance? What if it was the dybbuk? What if it was --

Steve's brows furrowed. No one was there. His doorway was empty. Turning back to question Natasha, he found her slumped over, trying to muffle her laughter. Of course, an undignified snort escaped her and she wasn't even in the slightest bothered.

The annoyance seeped out of Steve. It was odd seeing Natasha like this, but he decided that he liked it. Liked it almost as much as Tutti, and even Goose, seemed to, as they both started nuzzling close to her. Not that she minded as she easily started petting both of the needy flerkens.

"You should've seen your face," Natasha finally managed to gasp out before devolving into another fit of laughter.

Playfully, Steve swatted at her with one of the pillows on his bed as he explained, "You wouldn't find it so funny if _you_ were the one haunted."

"Wait," Natasha's laughter died out. Propping herself up on her elbow, she studied Steve with a furrowed brow as she asked, "You're being haunted?"

Ignoring the way his cheeks flamed, Steve gave a hard nod as his confirmation. Keeping his eyes on Natasha as she sat upright. As she studied him, a smug smirk tugged at her lips. The more her plump lips quirked up, the more Steve's brows furrowed. Finally, he asked, "What?"

"Sounds like a séance is what you need," Natasha explained.


	5. Five

**Five:**

If they were going to have a séance, they definitely needed supplies. So, Steve and Natasha left his room in search for the items. Thankfully, he had grown up in a magical house rather than a mortal one. Finding candles and salt and a talking board would be simple. Alveus knows that the Odinsons were prepared, if nothing else.

As Steve entered the kitchen, he paused. Completely stilling in his steps. Sitting uncomfortably at the kitchen table was none other than the former host of _Bruce Ban, the Science Man_. Sure, Steve knew that they lived in the same town. Dr. Banner even owned and operated The Mad Scientist: Coffee and Oddity Shop. The very one that Thor had been working at part-time just to get out of the house since Steve left for the academy.

 _Even he needs space from Uncle Loki_ , Steve couldn't help but bitterly think. Of course, then he felt bad for thinking so cruelly at his uncle. After all, he had helped raise him. He loved Steve. He did what he thought was best for Steve.

"Um, hi," Steve cleared his throat, letting the man know he was there.

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Dr. Banner turned to look at Steve. Eyes wide, as though he wasn't expecting Steve. And perhaps he wasn't. After all, Steve had been living at the academy almost entirely exclusively. Now he was wondering what in the Maveth was going on.

Accidentally whacking his knee against the table as he stood up, he held his hand out to Steve as he introduced himself, "Bruce."

"Steve," he gave his hand a firm shake, surprised by how strong Bruce's grip was. Judging just by his meek frame, Steve wouldn't have assumed his hold to be so powerful. He supposed that was why the phrase, "assume makes an ass out of you and me," existed. Steve attempted to get a better feel for the older man, "Are you here for an antique? Or a restoration?"

"Oh, uh, no," Bruce blushed and sat back down in his seat, rubbing his sore knee as he bashfully clarified, "Your uncle invited me over for dinner."

 _Invited me over for dinner_ , ran through Steve's mind. Shocked that his uncle invited a mortal over. Either this was going to be an odd date. Or they were going cannibal for the holidays.

Steve really hoped it was the first option.

Trying not to seem too strange just standing there looking at him, Steve decided to resume his hunt for séance items. Positive that there were some white candles and matches in there. Along with some of Uncle Thor's salt mixtures.

As Steve started heading for the pantry where the items were most likely located, the oven timer beeped, causing Steve to pause. For a moment, he debated just leaving it for someone else to take care of. But he didn't want what was in there to burn. It was Yule, after all.

So, Steve let the pantry be as he walked over to the oven. Grabbing the mitts he got Uncle Thor for Yule a few years ago, he slid them on and opened the oven. Being greeted with the mouthwatering orange and cranberry glazed Cornish hens, Steve was glad that he had decided to come home for the holidays.

As he set the pan on the stove, however, Steve realized that there were only four hens. Deciding to ignore the way his stomach dropped, Steve ducked down again to pull out the roasted red potatoes, and brown sugar Brussels sprouts. Everything looked and smelled so delicious that his stomach grumbled. Probably still angry with him due to the academy meals not being the gourmet dishes that he was used to.

"Sounds like you made it home just in time," Bruce softly smiled, still seeming a bit shy.

"Guess I did," Steve grinned in reply. Trying to match up the goofy man he remembered from the school programs with the soft-spoken man in his kitchen.

"Perhaps you should've called first though," Uncle Loki stated from the family room.

 _Had he been there this whole time?_ Steve wondered as he turned around. Thankfully, Loki was leaning casually against the archway. With his arms nonchalantly crossed along his chest, the newspaper tucked under his arm. His eyes kind when they met Steve's, and Steve didn't even hesitate as he rushed across the room. Instantly wrapping Loki into a tight, warm embrace. Not realizing just how much he had missed his uncle until that very moment.

"Honestly, Steven, one would think you were raised by wolves," Loki teased, smoothing his hand over the back of Steve's head, the way he used to when Steve would scrape his knee or have a nightmare. Holding him just a bit tighter, Loki admitted, "Glad to have you back, little one."

And if Steve had to bury his face into his uncle's shoulder because tears started building in his eyes? Well, that was no one's business but his own.

"I like her though," Loki softly spoke to him, rubbing comforting circles into his back, solidifying how much of a child Steve still was. Loki reminded, "I've always wanted you to find a nice witch or warlock."

Steve choked on his saliva at that. Coughing and pulling back, Steve's brows furrowed at Loki. Blinking away the shock, Steve corrected, "I'm not dating Natasha. We're just friends."

Looking a bit more skeptically than Steve would've liked, Loki noncommittally agreed, "Right."

Something about that single word brought Steve back to the time before he and Bucky started dating. Back to the time when his crush was obvious to his family, but he thought he was hiding well. When Bucky had already started acting more like a boyfriend than a friend, but Steve was too blind to see it.

But this time was different. That wasn't the way he and Natasha were. Right?

"Boy, something sure does smell good," Natasha complimented, announcing her presence.

Slowly redirecting his attention to the doorway, Steve looked over at Natasha. She had an easy grin on her face. One that Steve was familiar with. One that made the knot in Steve's chest ease.

Steve's eyes widen at that realization. Because, _oh no_.


	6. Six

**Six:**

"You look like shit," Sam deadpanned at the door.

Feigning arrogance, Bucky scoffed and pushed past Sam, to enter the Wilson home. Removing his jacket, he glanced over Sam and mocked, "Ya sure you weren't looking at your reflection."

"Ha-fucking-ha," Sam obnoxiously, sarcastically laughed, closing the front door.

As Sam led the way into the living room, Bucky glanced towards the kitchen. The same mistletoe that hung over the archway every year, was once again there. Immediately, Bucky dropped his gaze and quickly crossed the room to take the furthest seat on the couch. Only then did he realize that it wasn't as lively as it normally was.

Trying to tamp down his curiosity and anxiety, Bucky -- as casually as possible -- asked, "Where's everyone else?"

"Sharon's working till eight," Sam replied, popping his feet up on the coffee table. Crossing his arms along his chest, he casually answered Bucky's real question, "Steve said that he's gonna stop by after dinner."

Bucky's heart stuttered and his breath hitched. Pressing his lips tightly together, Bucky begged for his tears to stay in his eyes. Unfortunately, nothing had been going his way. Not since Steve left.

While Bucky worried his lower lip with his teeth as the anxiety built in him, Sam tried to comfort him by suggesting, "I can ask him to not come."

"No," Bucky answered too quickly and too loud. His breathing coming to him erratically because that was the last thing that Bucky wanted. He wanted to see Steve. He wanted to be near Steve. Steve was the one person that Bucky wanted to be around all the time.

"Okay," Sam held his hands up in surrender as he defended himself, "I'm just trying to help."

Closing his eyes, Bucky forced himself to breathe evenly. It was easier when he didn't have to look at Sam as he admitted, "I know. But not seeing Steve would probably hurt more."

"I get it," Sam reassured.

Assuming that he was messing with him, Bucky opened his eyes to look over at his friend. The sincerity etched deeply into Sam's expression allowed no doubt. Sure Sam and Bucky were friends and had been for years. But their friendship was different than the one shared with Steve. Or even the one shared with Sharon. With Sam, it was all jokes and roughhousing.

"You wanna… talk… about it?" Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Not knowing how to comfort Bucky. Usually, on the rare occasion that Bucky was in an off mood, Steve was the one who took the reins and cheered him up. It wasn't because Sam wasn't a good friend; it was just that Bucky and Steve had a special link. Always had.

 _Always will_ , Bucky couldn't help but think.

Scrubbing his hand over his face to get his mind as far away from all things Steve, Bucky shook his head and declined, "I'm okay."

But even he could hear the wobble in his voice. Normally, Bucky would've reassured that he truly was fine. Only, he was sure that if he opened his mouth again, he'd start crying. And he really didn't want to --

A playfully rhythmic knock came from the front door. Immediately a switch in his head was flipped, and his heart started racing. The way it did whenever Bucky was about to see Steve. It was especially prevalent in the early days of his crush. _What's Steve thinking? What's Steve doing? When am I going to see Steve next? Would Steve think this is funny?_ Back in the early days when all Bucky could think about was _Steve_.

Sitting there in the Wilson living room though, Bucky realized just how little things had changed.

Trying not to think about how pathetic he was in the moment, Bucky ran his hand through his tousled hair and hoped that he didn't look too much like he was dying. Because _god that'd be humiliating_. Bucky had always found Steve to be unfairly gorgeous, and he never wanted to make it obvious just how much Steve was out of his league.

Butterflies were fluttering aggressively in his stomach as he heard the door open and Sam greet Steve. At least Bucky had worn blue. Remembering how much Steve loved the color on him, and practically wearing the color exclusively since Steve left. As much as it hurt to think about Steve leaving, it hurt even more to avoid the things that Steve --

"Stevie, you never told me how cute your friends are," a raspy voice halted Bucky's train of thought.

His brows furrowing as he attempted to work through what was going on. But his mind refused to work. Getting hung up on an unfamiliar voice purring _Stevie_. Almost exactly the way that he did. And who the hell did they think they --

"Buck," that familiar, enviously deep voice spoke as though he was simply exhaling.

Bucky snapped his attention to the archway, finding Steve. Still not used to this larger, muscular boy. But still thinking of him as _his Stevie_. Positive that he always would as a soft smile broke out on his face as he breathily greeted him, "Stevie."

Blushing the way that Bucky always found so endearing, Steve's eyes roamed over Bucky's frame as he complimented, "You look good."

Positive that his cheeks were as red as Steve's sweater, Bucky placed his arm on the back of the sofa and feigned confidence as he told Steve, "So do you." Allowing himself to look over Steve's frame, shamelessly checking the love of his life out, Bucky fixed a smug smirk on his face as he softly repeated, "So do you."

"Doesn't he though?" That raspy voice declared, causing Bucky's attention to drift from Steve to an attractive redhead. His brows furrowed as he looked her over as she teasingly leaned into Steve while confirming, "He's such a stud."

As jealously and anger started bubbling up in Bucky, he looked behind them to Sam. Sam's brows were arched high on his forehead, shocked. When his gaze locked with Bucky's, he exaggerated a shrug, letting Bucky know that he also didn't know that Steve was bringing a… _friend_.


	7. Seven

**Seven:**

Watching the way that Steve watched the redhead cross the room and sit on the opposite end of the sofa, made Bucky's blood boil. Not only because Steve's blue eyes were so kind in his observation. But because Bucky knew that look as well as he knew his own name. That look of such adoration that it made whoever was under that gaze feel special.

Needing a moment to catch his breath, Bucky stood from his seat and kept his gaze locked on the kitchen. Never letting his eyes drift back over to Steve the way they wanted to. Instead, forcing his attention to remain forward as his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Bucky didn't stop at the kitchen though. Bucky needed to pace and he very well didn't want to do so where _she_ could see him. So, Bucky kept going until he got to the laundry room. Closing the door behind himself and trying to fix his thoughts. He needed to get control over his emotions while he was at it, because all he wanted to do was yell at --

"Buck?" Steve questioned, opening the door a crack and peeking in.

Pausing in his pacing, Bucky stared at Steve. A deep furrow in his brows as he tried to form a coherent sentence. Only, his mind was a tangled clusterfuck that kept asking new questions and repeating them into jumbled half-sentences. So, Bucky simply threw his arms around in the air wildly in his frustration as he gestured in the direction of the living room.

Steve slipped into the laundry room then. Holding his arms up in an appeasing fashion as he started, "I can explain."

Bucky found that hard to believe, but since he wasn't going to be talking any time soon, he decided to just keep his mouth shut. Crossing his arms, he dropped his gaze to the blue tile floor.

"Natasha is a friend from school," Steve clarified, "She doesn't have a family, and I felt bad about leaving her at the academy by herself."

 _Natasha_. Vaguely Bucky remembered hearing about her. It felt like a lifetime ago. But Bucky remembered. And just like then, Bucky felt his jealously blossom. Of course, this would happen. _Of fucking course_.

"Well, aren't you just the greatest best friend," Bucky spoke through his teeth with much more venom than he originally intended.

Steve's face dropped at his comment. Looking utterly miserable, and Bucky had to dig his fingernails into his arms to stop himself from closing the space and wrapping Steve up in his arms. Every fiber of his being was demanding that he comfort Steve. It was easy to see that Steve was hurt. And that hurt more than his own hurt.

"We're just friends," Steve whispered, unable to make his voice any louder.

Bucky swallowed around the lump forming in his throat and forced himself to question, "The way we were?"

Shoulders dropping, Steve looked like a kicked puppy as he assured, "Buck, no. No one could be like us."

"You sure?" Bucky pathetically asked. So ashamed of himself for needing the reassurance, he kept his gaze down, on his feet. He didn't want to see how Steve was probably judging him.

Then, he felt Steve hesitantly touch his chin. Steve's hold was tender, as though Bucky was something precious. _Or fragile_. Carefully, Steve tilted Bucky's face up, in a move right out of James Buchanan Barnes' book. It was odd, looking up at Steve who was now a couple of inches taller than him.

Stroking his thumb along Bucky's freshly shaven jaw, Steve promised, "No one could ever be you."

Crumpling, Bucky's knees gave out beneath him as tears started spilling down his cheeks. Steve caught him before he could fall and held him close. Allowing Bucky to bury his face in his broad chest while he stained his sweater with his thick, hot tears.

"I missed you," Steve whispered into Bucky's ear while rubbing comforting circles into his back. His lips touching the shell of Bucky's ear as he strongly -- leaving no room to argue -- confirmed, "Every day."

"I missed you too," Bucky conceded, wrapping his arms tightly around Steve's unfamiliar strong torso. Pulling themselves flush against one another, Bucky confessed, "I _miss_ you, Stevie."

Steve held him closer, tighter. Making Bucky feel like he'll never let him go. That was all Bucky wanted. To be Steve's. To love Steve and be loved by Steve. To know that he'll always be the luckiest man alive to have his best friend and the love of his life by his side, always.

That was how things were supposed to be…

Wanting to see Steve's face, Bucky pulled back. Lifting his hand, he cautiously cradled Steve's face. Half-convinced that at any moment, he would turn to dust. Completely evaporate into thin air.

Needing to make sure that Steve was actually there, Bucky leaned in. Before he could press his lips to Steve's though, Steve stopped him. Bucky's heart shattered. The sharp shards of the broken pieces cutting his stomach.

"It'll hurt too much," Steve reasoned. Taking Bucky's hand in his and removing it from his face, Steve informed, "If I kiss you, I'll never want to stop."

Bucky rested his forehead to Steve's and suggested, "Then, don't stop."

Steve's gaze dropped to Bucky's lips, as though he was seriously considering doing just that. _Good_ , Bucky thought victoriously. Although, when Bucky decided to follow his instinct and Steve's nonverbal cues, Steve stopped him again with a warning, "Once winter break is over, we'll be going to different schools."

"So?" Bucky scoffed, feeling Steve's breath on his lips. Bucky begged, "Come back. Everything was better with you there."

"Buck, I can't," Steve replied in a voice so broken that Bucky's eyes immediately snapped to his. There were tears building in his blue eyes as he explained, "I've already put you and Sam and Sharon, and your family in danger. Just from you knowing what happened. If I show up at school looking like _this_ \--" he gestured at his new frame "-- it'll disrupt things too much. Cause too many questions. Put so many more people in danger."

Desperate, Bucky grasped at any straw he could, "Isn't there something you can do? A spell? Something? Anything?"

Steve licked over his lips as he thought. Bucky could almost see the wheels turning in his head. It would've been cute if his words didn't break his heart, "I'm not powerful enough."

"Steven Grant Rogers, I don't want to hear you say that about yourself ever again," Bucky held Steve's face in his hands, making sure that Steve was paying attention to him, and him only. "You are the most stubborn person that I've ever met, and if you put your mind to something, it'll happen."

Despite the tears streaming down Steve's face, his lips quirked into a small smirk, "You sound so sure."

Bucky shrugged a shoulder, "Spend fourteen years with a mouthy punk who can't keep their nose in their own business, you pick up a few things."

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes as he joked, "Clearly, how not to be a jerk, wasn't one of 'em."

"You know you love me," Bucky teased, falling back into his old self as though he was slipping on a beloved sweater.

Steve's brows furrowed as he took in a deep breath. Bucky waited for Steve to say that he did still love him. Then, he waited for Steve to say _anything_. It felt like an eternity before Steve gestured over his newly broad shoulder towards the rest of the house as he suggested, "We should get out there. Start watching movies."

Not waiting for Bucky to respond, Steve left. Bucky stared at the spot where Steve stood and quietly mocked himself and the situation, "Love you, too, Buck."


	8. Eight

**Eight:**

_This was a mistake_ , Steve couldn't help thinking as he rushed out of the laundry room. He knew that it was going to be difficult being around Bucky. Difficult because all he wanted was to wrap him up in his arms. Wanted to kiss Bucky like there was no tomorrow. But Steve couldn't do that. Even though he had wanted to do nothing else from the moment he left Bucky.

Quickly crossing the kitchen, Steve ran his hand through his floppy blond hair. Remembering how Bucky used to run his fingers through it, his chest tightened. Maybe it was time to get a haircut. If only to put an end to --

"Ope," Steve exhaled, bumping into someone in the archway. Not watching where he was going, it took a moment for Steve to realize that he had collided with Natasha.

Steadier on her feet than Steve had ever been, Natasha helped him regain his balance. Her hands securely grasped his biceps until he finally stood on stable legs. Well, as stable as they were ever going to be since Bucky Barnes always had a way of making him weak in the knees.

"You okay?" Natasha good-humoredly scoffed. And even though she phrased it as a joke, Steve could distinguish the concern in her naturally raspy voice.

Nodding, Steve lied, "Yeah."

Of course, the crack in his voice gave him away. Allowing Natasha to study him for a moment. Which he hated. And hated even more when Natasha's gaze continued further up, until it paused on the archway. Since Natasha was looking up, Steve tilted his head up as well. Noticing the artificial mistletoe that always hung above the archway every winter, Steve didn't think anything more of it.

That was, until Natasha stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Shocked, Steve stood there. Not knowing how to move his arms in hopes of pushing her away. Not knowing how to breathe, as his lungs ceased in his chest. Almost as though his body knew how traitorous he was, and wanted him to suffer.

Especially when his mind started taking note on how different being kissed by Natasha was than kissing Bucky. For one, there was no stubble. Instead of the typical sandpaper feel that Steve had grown accustomed to, he only felt the soft plump lips. Second, the height difference. Steve was used to being the petite one. And third, that it only lasted for a second. Sure, the second seemed to go on much longer than Steve had been anticipating, but it was still the shortest kiss that Steve had had in quite some time.

When Natasha pulled back, all Steve could do was stare wide-eyed down at her. Even though Natasha's gaze fell from his face to behind him. Her expression transforming from something playful to something remorseful.

 _Bucky!_ Steve's breath hitched as he immediately turned to look behind himself. Looking like Steve had murdered a puppy in front of him, Bucky's face was furrowed in despair. As large, fat tears silently streamed down his sickly pale face, it felt as though someone had reached into Steve's chest and gave his heart a tight squeeze. Aching for Bucky as he tugged on his boots and turned as he rushed out the back door of the house.

Knowing that if he didn't leave now, he'd never catch up to him, Steve didn't even hesitate before racing across the kitchen and heading out the sliding door behind Bucky. Only once he easily caught up to Bucky, did Steve remember that he was taller now. His legs were longer. His strides bigger.

"Just a friend, huh," Bucky sneered, not taking his gaze off the snow they were walking through.

"She is!" Steve defended himself, even though his cheeks were heating as he thought back to how her easy grin had stirred something in him -- Steve shook his head, as though that would help.

"Yeah, it sure seems like it," Bucky bitterly scoffed. Reaching his truck, he harshly yanked the door open.

As he climbed inside, Steve's brows furrowed and he asked, "You're leaving?"

"Might as well," Bucky sniffled. He went to close the door, but Steve grabbed on to it. Narrowing his eyes, he aimed to hurt, "You can cozy up to your _friend_ without feeling bad."

He aimed, and he didn't miss.

Like a sniper's bullet straight to Steve's heart, the pain tightened his chest and he weakly argued, "She's just a friend, Buck. I didn't know that she was going to kiss me."

"Maybe you didn't," Bucky mocked, not fully believing him, "But you weren't opposed, were you?"

"Buck," Steve pathetically pleaded.

Bucky's jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth, "It would've hurt less, if you lied."

With that, Bucky yanked the door out of Steve's grasp. Successfully slamming it closed. Ignoring Steve entirely as he started the hand-me-down truck and peeled out of the driveway.

Steve stood there, watching Bucky drive down the street. Praying aloud to himself, "Alveus, keep the boy I love safe."

Standing there until Bucky turned out of his vision. Ducking his head, he turned on his heel and walked towards the house. His heart clenching and causing him to glance over his shoulder. Wondering if he should take off after him. Surely, he'd be able to catch up…


	9. Nine

**Nine:**

Against every cell in his body yelling at him to do just that, to chase after Bucky, Steve forced himself to enter the Wilson house. Admittedly, it was so tense that Steve would rather have Bucky yelling at him than be there. And he wanted to be there even less when Sam stood from his seat.

Not missing the pointed look that Sam gave him before entering the kitchen, Steve knew better than to ignore him. So, he followed. Purposely not looking at Natasha as he hung his head, ashamed of himself. He knew it had been a mistake. He should've just stayed at his house.

But Steve wanted to see Bucky.

Even now, about to get his ass metaphorically beat, Steve couldn't help but look towards the laundry room. Couldn't help but think that he should've kissed Bucky when he had the chance. Despite it being a bad idea. Despite it having the possibility of hurting both of them in the end.

"What the fuck was that?" Sam harshly whispered, nudging Steve's shoulder to gain his attention.

 _What the fuck_ was _that?_ Steve, himself, questioned. He hadn't expected it. Hadn't even considered it. Not even with the acknowledgement of his possibly forming crush on Natasha did Steve ever think that they would be kissing.

Especially not in front of Bucky.

As he attempted to straighten out his thoughts, Sam shoved his shoulder again. Steve's eyes snapped up to look at his friend, and shrugged. He admitted, "I didn't know that she was going to kiss me."

"Yeah, well," Sam crossed his arms along his chest. "From here, it looks like you've moved on. Which, fine. You're my friend, and I want you to be happy. But a warning would've been nice." Even though it was clear that he was trying to be as fair as possible, Sam confessed, "Bucky hasn't been doing too well. And maybe he needs to work this out on his own. But you showing up with -- and I mean no disrespect -- one of the hottest girls I've ever seen, it doesn't exactly help. With or without the mistletoe."

Completely agreeing with everything that Sam said, Steve simply nodded. He knew that it was a mistake to show up. But he had wanted to see Bucky. And Loki and Thor had raised Steve right, causing him to feel uncomfortable for abandoning a guest that he invited to stay with them. It didn't hurt that Natasha was eager to meet his mortal friends, just so she could see how mortals interacted with one another and finally prove the myths that the enhanced spread to be either true or false.

Running his hand through his hair again -- wanting to just rip the strands right out of his skull because it would probably hurt way less than what he was currently feeling -- Steve glanced back in the direction of the living room where Natasha was quietly sitting. He wondered if she was listening. Figuring that she was, Steve turned back to look at Sam.

Sam's expression was a firm mask made of anger and vigilance. It was the same mask that he always fixed on his face whenever he found out that some douchebag was messing with Steve. Always ready to fight for the ones he loved. Now, Steve didn't need his protection. However, Bucky did.

So, Steve decided, "I think that Nat and I should leave."

A twitch of sympathy cracked through around Sam's soft eyes, but he didn't argue. Steve continued, pleading, "Call Buck? Make sure he's okay?"

"Yeah, pal," Sam agreed, finally uncrossing his arms. Companionably clapping his hand on Steve's new broad shoulder, Steve blushed when Sam quickly glanced over his frame. Admittedly, it was weird for them. Trying to fit the existence of magic into the puzzle that made up the Odinsons.

With a small smile on his face, Sam conceded, "It was nice seeing you, Steve. We all miss you, ya know? We wish we could see ya more."

"I miss you, too," Steve weakly smiled.

Realizing that this could be the last time that they see each other for a while, Steve pulled Sam in for a hug. Looping his arms around Sam's trim waist the way that he used to, he tried to make himself as small as he once had been. Longing for the way his head used to rest on his chest above his heart. At least when Sam wrapped his arms around his newly broad shoulders, the hug managed to still be all-encompassing.

"Stay safe, Steve," Sam requested, his shaky voice close to begging.

"'Don't have to worry about me," Steve reassured, giving his lean torso a comforting squeeze. Pulling back, Steve asked, "Keep an eye on Bucky? Please?"

"Of course," Sam soothed, "Just because he doesn't talk about it, doesn't mean that we don't check up on him."

"I know," Steve sighed, relieved that Bucky had people who cared about him. Quickly overcome with emotion, Steve softly confirmed, "You're a good friend, Sam."

"So are you, Steve," Sam assured, "You're just going through some things. I'm here for you though. Whenever you need me, or whenever you just want to talk."

Steve nodded, and gave Sam another tight hug. Not getting nearly as much comfort as he was hoping for, Steve pulled back. Giving Sam a sad smile before heading towards the front of the house. Natasha was pulling on her jacket when Steve reached her, and he was glad that he wouldn't have to tell her that they needed to leave.

Following Natasha out of the Wilson home, Steve paused with his foot on the porch. Turning back around to find Sam close behind, Steve said, "Thank you."

Sam's shoulders dropped and he smiled, "Merry Christmas, Steve."

"Blessed Yule," Steve regarded, feeling lighter as he finally left the house.


	10. Ten

**Ten:**

Silently, Steve and Natasha walked back to his house. The only sound coming from the pair was of snow crunching beneath their feet as it started to freeze. Well, that was the only sound when Natasha finally spoke. Assuming, "You're mad."

"I'm not mad," Steve answered too quickly. He shoved his hands further into his jacket pockets as he tried to focus on the cold weather rather than his breaking heart. Rather than thinking of Bucky's broken heart.

"Right," Natasha falsely agreed, bringing her hands up to her mouth to breath some warmth into them.

Ten more steps and Steve could see the _Nine Realms Antiques_ sign in his front yard. There was snow gathering on the top of the thick wooden sign, and Steve wondered if the snow was planning on continuing all night. It had been so long since they had a good snow storm. And Bucky always loved --

"I can go back to the academy," Natasha quietly offered.

Interrupting not only his thoughts but his steps too, Steve stopped on the sidewalk. It took Natasha a couple more steps to realize that Steve wasn't beside her anymore, and she backtracked on the slippery path to Steve. Steve, who could only stand there staring at her in his incredulousness.

Natasha's brows furrowed in her concern, just about to ask him if he was okay when Steve beat her to it with his own question, "Why would you go back to the academy?"

Pulling her shoulders back to seem more confident, Natasha confirmed, "Because I upset your boyfriend."

"We're on a break," Steve pitifully admitted. Having kept it to himself after the night of his terrigenesis.

"I still upset him," Natasha repeated, sighing. For the first time since meeting her, Natasha's nonchalant demeanor broke. Her expression twisting into one that had Steve's heart clenching. Sincerely, Natasha apologized, "I'm sorry, Steve. I've never been to a Christmas party before --"

"That wasn't a Christmas --"

"-- I saw the mistletoe and I remembered the tradition of kissing under them, and so that's what I did," Natasha explained, completely ignoring how Steve interrupted him. "Only knowing how the enhanced aren't very accustomed to monogamy, I didn't think about upsetting anyone. I didn't think, period. And for that, I'm sorry."

Steve studied Natasha for a moment. Positive that Natasha meant what she said and was truly sorry, Steve decided, "I accept your apology."

Looking all too relieved, Natasha softly smiled up at him, causing butterflies to flutter in his stomach. Shaking his head, he refused to think about _that_. Instead choosing to continue towards his house. Finding comfort in the way that Natasha easily fell into step beside him without either of them saying another word.

Quietly entering the home to find Hildy wrapped in a wool blanket while drinking a mug of hot cocoa while looking positively cozy. She smiled at the pair as they took off their jackets and shoes, and informed them, "You're just in time. We're about to start the burning."

"I better go carve on it then," Natasha declared, following the hallway towards the kitchen.

Steve veered into the family room where Hildy was and he lowered his voice, "Is Bruce still here?"

Hildy nodded, seemingly as surprised as Steve was. She moved her feet from the cushion beside her, a clear gesture for Steve to sit down next to her. Which, he did. Quietly, Hildy said, "We're supposed to act inconspicuously. Keep the magic talk on the down low."

Bitterly, Steve couldn't help but question, "How does Thor think he's going to keep his lack of aging from a mortal?"

Shrugging at her cousin's reasonable, resentful inquiry. Taking another sip of her cocoa before setting it down on the table beside her, she relayed, "This is Thor's first attempt at romance since Amora."

Steve couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. Amora was before his time. Amora was Thor's lover when Hildy was still a child. She wasn't the mortal that had broken Thor's heart and made him swear off mortals for centuries. No, she was the enchantress that made Thor stopping dating altogether.

Until now.

Although Steve was sulking at the seemingly double standard of mortal-relations, he was happy that Thor was finally choosing himself. He had taken care of everyone else for so long, and it was about time that he took care of himself. Did what was good for _his_ heart for once.

"I assumed that you wouldn't be back until later," Hildy casually stated. Steve narrowed his eyes at her.

Hildy had powers of perception, close to telepathy, but leaning more towards amplified empathy, and Steve wondered what she was picking up from him just sitting beside her. Quickly, he attempted to keep a tight lid on what had happened at Sam's, but by the way Hildy's eyes widened, Steve knew that it was too late. When Hildy's expression turned to one of fury and she removed her feet from the sofa entirely, Steve knew that he was in for it.

Angrily, Hildy hissed, "I like Natasha, but if she thinks that it's okay to just --"

"She apologized," Steve quickly interrupted, not wanting to go over everything again. He ducked his head closer to hers as they kept their conversation as private as they could while not drawing attention to themselves. "I'd rather not think about that tonight."

"If you're planning a séance, you're going to need to cleanse more than just your hands, Steven," Hildy warned. "You'll need to clear your mind. Get it all off your chest. You'll have more protection with the log burning, but you're still risking a lot. Especially if you don't --" out of words she waved her hands around as she gestured at his body "-- cleanse all the negativity from yourself."

Rolling his eyes, Steve assured, "I know what I'm doing, Hil."

"Sure," Hildy scoffed, leaning back in her seat to grab her cocoa. With the movement of the mug, the air lifted the sting of hard liquor and Steve was glad he didn't ask for a sip. Taking a large gulp herself, Hildy mocked, "Go away to the academy for a month --"

"Here we go --"

"-- and now you're a hotshot --"

"That's ridicu--"

"-- you might be hot shit now, Stevie, but you don't know everything."

Another eye roll from Steve, but a smile as well as he affectionately confessed, "I learned more from you than at the academy."

Trying to hold back her grin, she lifted the mug back to her mouth. Still wanting to be loving towards her cousin, she winked, but didn't speak on the subject. Not with Carol joining them in the room. Especially not when Bruce joined them.


	11. Eleven

**Eleven:**

"Okay," Loki announced, carrying the Yule log into the room. He took a look around at the group on his way around the simply decorated Yule tree to the fireplace, and casually asked Bruce, "Do you mind grabbing the matches?"

"Oh, sure," Bruce easily agreed. Standing from his seat from the loveseat beside Thor, he unwittingly left the room for the matches that were purposely forgotten in the kitchen.

Not that they needed them. As nonchalantly as possible, Thor stood from his seat and quickly closed the partition doors while everyone else crowded around the fireplace. Ceremoniously, they took each other's hands and bowed their heads while they silently prayed to Alveus. Although Steve wasn't too fond of their God, he still found himself praying to him. After all, he didn't want to ruin things any more than he already had.

"May Hive bless us enough to prosper," Thor softly stated, ending their prayers.

Moving from beneath Thor's hand on his right shoulder and Hildy's hand on his left, Loki bent at the knees to place the log in their fireplace. Once it was placed just right, he conjured a flame on the tip of his index finger and touched it to the log. Sure, Loki didn't necessarily need to be so dramatic as use his finger as a lighter, and could've just set the log ablaze from simply looking at it. But Loki was always the more dramatic guardian and exactly where Steve learned it from.

With furrowed brows, Loki stood and directed his attention to Steve as he asked, "Aren't you wanting anything for the new year?"

Steve swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say. What _could_ he say? His one desire was to live a mortal life with Bucky, and all of that had been burned to the ground. Loki knew that. Yes, Steve had forgiven him for his part in all of it, but that didn't mean that Steve was happy with how things ended.

Thankfully, before Steve had to think of a possible answer that wasn't too bitter, Bruce returned. Looking confused as he carefully pushed open the wooden doors and joined them in the family room with a box of matches. When Bruce noticed that the fire was already going, an obvious wave of awkwardness pushed out from his meek frame.

"I forgot that I had a match in my pocket," Thor quickly explained as he held out his hand for the box in his date's grasped, "Thank you, though."

"Of course," Bruce shyly smiled up at the gentle giant. As he handed the box to Thor, their skin brushed along one another's. And while a small smile tugged at Thor's lips, Bruce yanked his hand away as quickly as possible.

Steve was glad to find that he wasn't the only one awkwardly looking away at the exchange. This was a date, wasn't it? Glancing up at his uncle, Steve was sad to realize that he wasn't the only one mutely questioning that.

Sensing the suddenly tense air, Carol asked, "Movies? Aren't we watching movies?"

"Yes!" Hildy exclaimed, thankful for the change of subject. Standing from her spot on the sofa once more, she gave Carol a kiss before crossing over to the TV as she teased, "I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

"Oh, that's the reason," Carol knowingly, flirtatiously smirked.

Hildy winked before shuffling through their planned holiday DVDs. It was exactly what the room needed as they soon situated themselves in the surrounding seats. Ready to relax and cozy up to one another. Steve took a seat beside Natasha. Rigidly, Steve attempted to not touch Natasha at all.

"You okay?" Natasha whispered, setting her mug on the side table beside her.

Looking over at exactly the wrong time to find Natasha licking the layer of melted marshmallow from her upper lip, Steve averted his gaze and attempted to make himself as small as possible while he gave a quick nod as his answer. Of course, Natasha knew that he was lying.

 _Should've asked for less perceptive friends_ , Steve couldn't help but think.

"When are we going to… talk…?" Natasha quirked a brow.

Glancing over at the adults, Steve wondered if any of them were paying attention to them. Thankfully, they all seemed preoccupied with Thor and Bruce and whatever was going on between them. Even Carol, who was sitting on the sofa on Steve's other side, was watching the pair as they awkwardly sat on the loveseat.

"Witching hour," Steve finally decided, taking a drink of his hot chocolate.

Natasha nodded, picked up her mug, and held it out to Steve. For a moment, he just looked at it before glancing up at her. Briefly, Natasha relaxed her face when she realized that Steve wasn't getting it and rolled her eyes. Quickly regaining her composure, Natasha gave Steve's mug a pointed look, then redirected her gaze to her own mug.

Feeling like an idiot that he didn't get it sooner, Steve blushed and bashfully raised his mug. Holding it out towards Natasha's and clinking the porcelain mugs together. Fighting a cringe at the noise they made, Steve brought his own mug back to his lips. When Natasha did the same, there was a delightful confidence hidden in the way she held herself in her casual posture. Steve's heart clenched, missing Bucky all the more.


	12. Twelve

**Twelve:**

As _White Christmas_ came close to the final act, Steve figured that this was as good of a time as any to head back to his room. It was quickly approaching the witching hour, so Steve was sure that with the late hour, no one would care. After all, Loki had already retired to his bedroom before the movie had even started with a comment about _one holiday movie is enough for the night_. Although Steve had a sneaky suspicion that he really just didn't like being the odd man out. Especially since it seemed as though he was the only one without a guest.

In fact, the only ones left were Steve, Natasha, Thor, and Bruce Ban the Science Man. Hildy and Carol tapped out within the first ten minutes of the movie, but had been more preoccupied with each other than what was playing out on the screen. Of course, they weren't the only ones. But their riveted attention was cuter than Thor's and Bruce's who awkwardly sat as far as they could on either side of the love seat.

Giving the older men another glance, Steve knew that they definitely wouldn't miss him or Natasha. So, Steve redirected his attention to the petite redhead. Only to find that Natasha was very interested in the movie. A small, intimate smile on her face. And was that, a twinkle, in her eyes?

Steve turned to look at the TV screen. _White Christmas_ had been a staple in the Odinsons' holiday celebrations all of Steve's life. But now he wondered what it would be like to be watching it for the first time. With the opening bars of the titular song playing as the cast donned in Santa suits and dresses took their places on stage, it did seem magical. Especially as the child ballerinas joined them in red and white tutus.

The corner of Steve's mouth quirked up. Feeling lucky to have witnessed this layer of Natasha that, Steve was positive, very few had seen before. It made those damn butterflies in his stomach start fluttering again, and Steve hated it.

When the end credits finally started streaming on the screen, Natasha finally turned her attention away from the screen to find Steve looking at her. Her brows furrowed, but the small smile stayed on her face. Steve turned his gaze to the clock, and was thankful that Natasha understood and stood from the sofa without a word.

As Steve stood up, Thor questioned, "You two heading for bed?"

"Yeah," Steve quickly answered.

Perhaps a bit too quick. For a moment, Thor's brows furrowed. Clearly not believing that the teens were in going to sleep. Suspiciously, he watched the pair until Natasha let out a long yawn as she stretched her arms high above her head. The skepticism seeped out of Thor's expression then and he bid the teens a goodnight.

"Should I put the mistletoe away?" Steve smirked, playfully winking at his uncle and his uncle's maybe-date.

Bashfully, Bruce averted his gaze to his lap while Thor’s eyes widened in his embarrassment. Even though Uncle Thor was several centuries old, and even though Dr. Banner was no spring chicken, they seemed younger in that moment. Almost as though they were the teenagers in the room.

Cheeks flaming red, Thor leveled a look at his nephew and firmly said, “Goodnight, Steven.”

Chuckling on his way up the private family staircase, Steve called over his shoulder, “Goodnight.”

"Are you always this much of a little shit?" Natasha teased.

"Pretty much," Steve confirmed, glancing over his shoulder at Natasha.

Rounding the corner at the landing, Natasha stepped a bit closer. Nearly pressing her chest against Steve's back as she quietly questioned, "You got everything, right?"

"Duh," Steve playfully scoffed, opening his bedroom door for Natasha to enter first. Following her into the room, Steve's eyes roamed over her frame.

_Hive's sake, Steve, get it together!_

Closing the door behind himself, Steve crossed the room to his closet. Retrieving the talking board, he tossed it carelessly onto his bed on his way to his bathroom.

"Alveus, Steve!" Natasha chastised, rushing over to the board. Almost affectionately, Natasha ran her hand over the smooth wood and looked over at Steve with wide eyes, "Have some respect."

Rolling his eyes, Steve gathered the white candles and the salt from his bathroom. As he re-entered his room, he reassured, "I would've done the same with my phone."

"I feel sorry for your phone," Natasha muttered as she chose held the board to her chest.

Looking around, Steve decided that the best place to perform the séance would be in front of his closet. Since that was the place where he had seen the bloody woman in his house. So, he gestured for Natasha to set the board down in between his bed frame and his closet. Even going so far as to open the closet door widely.

"I'm sure your roommates could make at least a dozen different gay jokes right about now," Natasha commented as she sat on the floor.

"Guess it's a good thing that I didn't invite them, huh," Steve quirked a brow and took the seat across from the open closet. Although he found it difficult to even look into the darkness, he still tried to keep his attention on it while Natasha set the board down in front of him.

"Candles," Natasha held her hand out like a doctor would await a scalpel.

Handing her a half dozen of the tall, skinny white candles, Natasha started setting them up around her on her end of the circle. Steve got to work on the other end before closing the circle behind himself. As the pair started lighting their wicks, Natasha asked, "Got a picture ready?"

"No," Steve sheepishly admitted.

Snapping her gaze to Steve, Natasha asked, "What do you mean, 'No'?"

Rather than looking at Natasha and possibly being crushed beneath the pressure of her quirked brow, Steve kept his attention on the candle. Easily dragging out lighting the wicks until all of his candles were lit. Until he couldn't do anything but meet her eyes.

"What?" Steve questioned even though he knew exactly _what_.

"How are we going to contact the spirit haunting you, if we don't know what they look like?" Natasha sighed in her frustration as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Even though she didn't need to, she reminded, "Spirits are tricky, Steve. They will take any misstep and use it to their advantage."

"I know," Steve snapped. His mind swirled with all the events that happened That Night. How Azazel possessed Teddy and later Bucky. Although his uncles tried to brush it off as a coincidence, Steve was convinced that it was too deliberate and had to have been a ruse. All he needed to do was dig a little deeper and find out why they wanted him to join them so --

Snapping her fingers in front of Steve's face, Steve shook his head to clear his mind and repeated, "I know."

Sitting on her feet, Natasha confirmed, "You know that this makes it easier for a malicious spirit to make contact with us."

"The Yule log is burning downstairs," Steve reminded. Looking towards the closet, Steve tried to remember the woman. Her wispy blonde hair that was pulled back and matted to her clammy face. Her thin frame that hunched over as she grasped onto her protruding abdomen as though she was still having labor pains. It was all so clear in Steve's mind and he arrogantly stated, "We'll get her."

Sighing, Natasha gave him a pointed look and said, "We better."

"We will," Steve firmly assured.

"Then," Natasha placed her fingers on the planchette, "Let's do this."

Taking in a deep breath, Steve placed his fingers on the planchette as well. Although Steve had only seen a séance from afar from the times that Hildy used it in his childhood, it was practically ingrained in his mind of what to do. From horror movies to scary campfire tales to his family using them to communicate with others to his dreams where he would sneak one of the boards in order to talk to his parents. It was always there. Even if he wasn't able to get into the class at the academy due to him not doing his core classes until now.

So, Natasha took the reins. Giving Steve a pointed look before closing her eyes, letting Steve know that he should do so as well. When he did, Natasha calmly stated, "Tonight we gather to seek guidance from the spirit world. If the spirits lingering in this house are near, please make your presence known."

_Wispy blonde hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. Drenched strands matted to her clammy face. Fragile frame in pain. Never holding the baby that she carried in her womb._

Steve kept concentrating on all the little things that he could remember. Over and over, it repeated in his head. Going all the way back to the silent yell of agony that she let out at Stark Orchards.

Then, a breeze blew into the room. The hair on the back of Steve's neck stood up while goosebumps prickled along his skin. Someone was there with them. Natasha must have felt it too because she questioned, "Are you the soul who has been watching over Steve?"

Quickly, the piece of wood tugged across the board to the _yes_ in the upper left hand corner. A smirk tugging at Steve's lips, he opened his eyes. Looking across from him to the closet, stood the spirit. Steve felt sorry for her. The way she looked so fatigued and pained as she grasped at her baby bump sans baby. How the dried blood on her inner thighs still looked fresh and how the dark circles under her eyes were so dark that they might as well have been tattooed.

Quietly, Natasha prompted, "Now's the time to ask your questions."

Out of everything that Steve wanted to know, he asked, "What's your name?"

Beneath his and Natasha's fingertips, the planchette easily glided along the board. Pausing at certain spots along the way. Most of it staying on the left side of the board as it spelled out:

_S-A-R-A-H_


	13. Thirteen

**Thirteen:**

"Sarah?" Steve questioned, glancing up at the spirit again. As she kept her remorseful gaze on him, but the piece started moving beneath his fingers towards the _yes_. Licking his lips as he thought, his brows furrowed, "Are you related to the Starks?"

Again, the planchette easily looped back to _yes_. Feeling like he was on a roll now, he asked, "Are you Howard's daughter? Are you actually Tony's mom? Is Howard taking care of him for you? Why are you here? Do you have a message for him? How am I connected to everyth--"

"One question at a time, Steve," Natasha forcefully reminded, practically hissing out the words from clenched teeth.

However, something had changed. A breeze manifesting in Steve's room and swirling around them. Blowing Natasha's shoulder length red hair around her face, getting tangled and caught between her lips. Around them, the candles started extinguishing with the wind winding between them.

"Steve?" Natasha called, glancing around, seeing that all the windows were closed.

Steve was preoccupied with the questions running through his mind though and how to ask Sarah all that he could. Then, the planchette flew out from beneath their fingertips. Instead, freely roaming around the board. Frantically landing on letters. Pausing only for a moment, _N-O-T-S-A-F-E_ , prior to moving onto other letters, _L-E-A-V-E_.

Natasha's brows rose high on her forehead as she sat straighter, "I think we should say good--"

"No," Steve argued, trying to take in all the messages that Sarah was willing to give them. Only, the planchette flew over the _yes_ repeatedly. Shaking his head, he snapped his attention to Sarah and desperately pleaded, "No, not yet. There's so much that I still need to --"

"-- are you even paying attention? Something is wron--"

"-- I just need to know. I need to figure out how everything is linked. I need --"

"-- to say goodbye," Natasha reached out to take hold of the planchette that was flying so quickly over the board that it appeared to be engraving its track pattern into the finish of the wood.

"We're just getting started!" Steve debated, practically blocking Natasha from getting a hand on the planchette.

While Natasha was reaching for the item -- just as Steve was -- she demanded, "We need to say --"

Suddenly, it wasn't just the two of them though. Sarah had stepped out of the closet and was now crouching on the floor along with them. One hand on her abdomen and the other reaching out for Steve's hand. Causing Steve to instantly freeze as he stared at the spirit. Especially once Sarah's hand lifted, as though she was going to cradle Steve's face.

Holding his breath, Steve waited to feel a hand on his jaw. Instead of feeling the heat of flesh and bone, Steve's jaw felt cold. Almost like how it would feel standing outside during a winter breeze.

From the hall, Loki's deep voice could be heard getting closer as he called, "Steve, something is --"

The bedroom door flew open, and Sarah disappeared, retreating back to wherever she had been before they called out to her. The action of the door opening, had startled both Steve and Natasha as they redirected their attention to the door where they found Loki standing there. Loki's mouth in an O-shape as though his mouth was in the midst of forming a word, but he simply forgot how to due to being so surprised. So, he stood there in his black silk pajama set and his shoulder length black hair twisted up in a towel as he evaluated the scene in front of him.

Loki's eyes narrowed and he placed his hands on his hips as he accused, "Did you put the Yule log out?"

"What?" Steve's brows furrowed. With how abruptly the séance ended, Steve snapped his eyes back to the dark closet, hoping that Sarah would still be there. Only, he knew that she wouldn't be. She had evaporated into the air as quickly as Loki had barged into his room.

"I can't believe that you would do this," Loki dramatically threw his arms up in the air.

"I didn't do anything," Steve rolled his eyes in his annoyance. That was when he spotted Sam and Bucky standing just outside his doorway. With furrowed brows, Steve stood from his spot on the floor and questioned, "What's going on?"

"Sharon never showed up," Sam quickly informed.

"What do you mean she never showed up?" Steve asked, stepping over the unlit candles and knocking a few over in his haste.

"She just… never showed up," Sam stated, his face twisted into worry and distress. Using his thumb to point over his should at a mute Bucky, Sam explained, "Bucky got this really bad vibe… Like with the attic."

Steve turned his gaze to Bucky who was purposely avoiding his eyes. His jaw was set as though he was trying his hardest to not say anything. And all Steve could think was, _all this time my boyfriend was clairvoyant and I didn't even recognize it_.

"We already called Grýla's to see if --"

Loki's brows furrowed as he turned to face the hallway once again as he questioned, "Grýla's?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed and clarified, "It's the new diner out by the highway. Sharon got a job there --"

"This is far more serious than I originally thought," Loki fretted and left Steve's room.

Since Loki left, so did Steve. Briefly, Steve paused in the doorway to his room. Glancing at Bucky, Steve wasn't sure what to do. Wanting to say something, but not necessarily knowing what to. Especially when Bucky didn't even look at him and instead just turned to head back downstairs.

Steve's shoulder's slumped when Sam turned to follow Bucky. _Should've asked Sarah how to fix things_.

Inhaling deeply, Steve forced himself to stand a little taller. Just like before his terrigenesis, he held his head high and his shoulders back as he feigned confidence. Steve needed to seem like he had his shit together, if only to ease the anxiety in the ones around him.


	14. Fourteen

**Fourteen:**

Standing in the Odinsons' family room now felt… odd. Sure, the Odinson house had always been stranger than his own and definitely weirder than Sam's. But now Bucky was wondering if he had purposely turned a blind eye. Or if he had blamed the off-balance situation on the collection of antiques. Or if it was because of the warm, fuzzy feeling that stirred up in him from his infatuation. Even now his heart stuttered in his chest when Steve joined them in the family room.

Steve's eyes landed on Bucky first, before falling to the fireplace. Since Steve was looking there, and Bucky really didn't want to look at Natasha who stood just to the right of him, Bucky glanced over to the fireplace too. There, an unlit log sat. The smoke was floating up and out of the fireplace, as though someone had recently put it out.

"I _can't_ believe that you would go to the lengths of putting out the log so you could show off and speak to some random spirit," Loki chastised as he bent down to relight the fire.

 _So you could show off,_ repeated in Bucky's mind and he glanced back at Steve and Natasha. Steve had that angry set to his jaw that Bucky recognized as him about to stand his ground. It had led them both into many fights with Steve -- despite being the little guy -- sticking up for those who couldn't stick up for themselves and Bucky blindly following his lead.

He'd follow Steve anywhere.

Even now, with the obvious attraction between Steve and his school friend bounced off each other and rippled out to the rest of the room. His mouth went dry and his throat tightened as though he decided to chug a container of kitty litter. Bucky wondered if there was anything more painful than watching the person you love falling for someone else.

Heart clenching, Bucky attempted to pay attention to what was going on in the room. Loki was still criticizing Steve as he relit the log using only a glance in log's direction. All the while, Bucky tried to keep his personal crisis at bay because they had bigger issues. Namely, where in the hell Sharon was.

From beside him, Sam cleared his throat. Gaining the attention of the room, he started, "As much as I love seeing Steve being ripped a new one for being a dumbass --" Sam glanced at Bucky, showing his allegiance to him "-- you know where Sharon is?"

Sighing, Loki pinched the bridge of his narrow nose while placing the other hand on his hip as he asked, "You said she's working with Grýla?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. When he amended, "Well, _at_ , not sure if it's an actual person," Bucky's gaze drifted back to Steve.

Discovering that he wasn't the only watching Steve, and that Natasha was as well, with possibly even more concern than Bucky had, his stomach churned. It was bad enough for Steve to be making googly eyes at the admittedly gorgeous redhead. But to see that the feelings might actually be returned caused Bucky's stomach to completely drop. Almost like when he would ride the Gyro Drop at the amusement park. Of course, whenever he did that, Steve was right there by his side, holding his hand because Bucky was terrified of heights but he'd do anything to see that large, excited grin on Stevie's --

"Oh, trust me," Loki fixed his gaze on Sam as he confirmed, "Grýla is definitely an actual person, and if Sharon is with her. We need to get to her quickly."

A chill shot down Bucky's spine at the gravity of the situation. Sure, he was already worried, but hearing that tone coming from one of the most apathetic individuals he had ever met, made his own concern spike. It was absolutely terrifying.

"So, where is she?" Natasha questioned, her raspy voice alluring and confident. Ready to get down to business and save someone that she's never met. _No wonder Steve likes her_.

As Sam gave the vague directions to the diner, Bucky attempted to distract himself. Of course, it wasn't as easy as he had hoped. What with his eyes unseeingly moved towards Steve like a magnet before Bucky caught himself and forced himself to look elsewhere. All he wanted to do was to look at Steve. It wasn't a surprise considering that was all Bucky had ever wanted to do. Even before they got together, Bucky would catch himself gazing dreamily at Steve like he held the universe's secrets in his green speckled blue eyes.

Steve's brows furrowed and -- _SHIT!_ \-- how long had Bucky been staring at him? Harshly biting down on his lip, he dropped his gaze to the floor while his cheeks burned in his embarrassment. It felt entirely too familiar and Bucky would kick his own ass if he could for being so stupid. He knew that this would be difficult, but not this difficult.

"Hold up," Sam raised his hands as if he could pause the moment and possibly stop all of time, itself. His face furrowed in thought and he confessed, "I don't think I heard you right."

"Which part?" Loki asked, as he removed the towel from his hair.

"All of it," Steve commented, locking eyes with Sam and nodding in unison as Sam confirmed, "Definitely all of it."

Slipping on his boots, Loki repeated what Bucky had missed, "Grýla feasts on misbehaving children. It's what she's been doing for centuries and I suspect that if Sharon is missing, we don't exactly want to be too long."

The situation seeming even more bleak than Bucky had imagined, he felt dizzy and grabbed onto the antique sofa to better balance himself. Steve delayed putting on his own winter gear and tenderly grabbed onto his arm to help. Steve had always had big hands, and the fact that they had remained the same despite his transition and larger frame, caused Bucky's heart to ache.

Longingly wishing that when he glanced up, it would be his Stevie. The mouthy fucker with courage taller than his petite frame. But alas, when Bucky looked up, it wasn't his Stevie. It was a new Steve. With a new clench to his strong jaw. One with more mature eyes that had seen things that Bucky couldn't imagine. One with a curious that was studying things that Bucky wouldn't dare to even think about. A Steve with a darkness just underneath the surface of his smooth pale skin that Bucky couldn't quite understand that was building like a storm. Which hurt Bucky more than being possessed had.


	15. Fifteen

**Fifteen:**

"You okay?" Steve gently asked, studying Bucky as he steadied him.

"Yeah," Bucky croaked and yanked his arm out of Steve's grasp.

Disguising his hurt by ducking his head to pull on his boots, Steve tried not to think too hard about why Bucky lied. Of course, Steve knew that Bucky wasn't okay, it was written all over his face. What Steve didn't know was why he would lie and say that he was okay, when he clearly wasn't. Steve especially couldn't figure it out since Bucky usually only lied if it was to spare someone's feelings. But Bucky had no qualms about absolutely demolishing Steve earlier.

"Now," Loki started, pulling on his winter coat, "I need you two --" he pointed at Sam and Bucky "-- to stay here."

"What?" Bucky asked, glancing at Natasha and then at Steve before fixing his gaze on Loki, "Are they going?"

Loki paused for a moment as he looked at his nephew. Steve wanted to go. He wanted to save Sharon. But he also knew that if he disobeyed his uncle, he'd be one of the misbehaving kids that Grýla would attempt to devour. Steve could only imagine what Sharon had done. His stomach churned at the thought that Loki might not be able to handle things himself. It was all the more reason for him and Natasha to go with him.

Finally, Loki decided, "No." As Steve braced himself for an argument, Loki turned towards the stairs. Clearly on his way to get the other Odinson family members to join him, only to find them already making their way down the staircase.

"Why are the Yule Lads here?" Thor questioned. His long blond hair sticking up in every which way while his eyes were wide. Being the very picture of bewilderment as he immediately glanced towards the fireplace to find that the Yule log was burning.

"Oh, this is not good," Natasha quietly stated from beside Steve.

Dropping his gaze to the petite redhead, Steve noted how she tightly held herself and looked around her, positively paranoid. And with good reason. So far, their Yule was turning out to be a bleak one.

"Well, isn't this just fantastic," Loki sighed in annoyance and frustration. Rubbing his temples, Loki started planning, "We need to get over to this new diner, _Grýla's_ , so we can save Amanda's daughter, and we need to keep the Yule Lads at bay."

"Fuck," Hildy breathed as she slipped on her winter boots.

Sam's brows furrowed and he leaned closer to Steve as he asked, "Yule Lads?"

"Mischievous and murderous spirits who happen to be Gryla's children," Carol relayed, pulling on her leather jacket.

"I'm sorry?" Sam questioned while Bucky repeated, "Murderous?"

"She's teasing," Thor reassured, but Steve could tell by the tightness in his tone that Carol wasn't exaggerating. As he stood there for a moment longer, his golden skin paled and he realized, "Bruce went home. What if the Lads latched onto him."

"Oh, for Hive's sake," Loki sighed and conceded, "Okay. Thor, you head over to Bruce's to make sure that nothing is amiss. Carol, Hildy, and I will go to Sharon. You four --" he gestured to Steve and his friends "-- hold down the fort. Steve, gather the warding candles from upstairs and hunker down around the Yule log. Can you do that?"

Typically, Steve would've rolled his eyes like the teenager he was. But this was no time for good-natured rebellion. This was a time to try and fix the things that he broke. So, he nodded and raced up the staircase to his room.

As he gathered the candles and jars of salt, Steve purposely avoided the ouija board. Although, he did chance a glance to his dark closet. After everything, Steve half-expected Sarah to be standing there. Of course, she wasn't, and his chest clenched in his disappointment.

Returning to the main level of the house, Steve quickly got to work setting up a protective area for them. Just as before, a paranormal wind swept through the room, winding around the teens. With the way Sam's eyes went wide in poorly hidden horror, Steve knew that the quicker he set up, the better.

Thankfully, Natasha was there.

The two got to work, and Steve couldn't help but to intermittently glance over at Bucky. Who was preoccupied with glancing around the room, seemingly tracking the supernatural breeze. Steve wondered if Bucky could see the Yule Lads. Then, Steve's heart started to race as he wondered what else Bucky's abilities could do. What else they could see.

However, his train of thought didn't stay on the rails for long as the Yule tree harshly crashed to the floor behind him. The only warning they had gotten was the tinkling from the ornaments hitting each other. That was all the warning they got.

The faster that Steve tried to be, the less his fingers wanted to cooperate. Natasha was there though. And she seemed to be working like a well-oiled machine.

As soon as the last candle was lit, a calmness seeped into the room. Not enough for the whole house. But a room was better than nothing, so Steve wasn't going to fret about it and ruin the atmosphere. Instead, he decided to distract himself by picking up the shattered pieces of the family ornaments. Some that had been in the family longer than Hildy had.

"Careful," Bucky lectured, kneeling down beside Steve as he cautiously started gathering the broken shards in his gentle hands. Hands that used to map out the lines of Steve's petite frame as though sculpting them in marble.

 _Bucky always had a way with his hands_ , a small, private smile, tugged at Steve's lips as he went to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Only, Steve didn't need the glasses anymore, and hadn't worn them in weeks. Yet, the habit to occupy himself from dirty thoughts remained, even when his bad eyesight didn't.

When Bucky cleared his throat, Steve snapped his gaze to him. Worrying his lower lip, he looked at all the broken shards in his hands and asked, "Do you have something? To put 'em back together?"

Steve blinked a few times, turning to look in the direction of the kitchen, "I think we have some glue."

"Glue?" Bucky's brows furrowed. When his lips twitched as though he was fighting a grin, Steve couldn't help but stare down at those lips. Those naturally attractive red lips that Steve just wanted to sink his teeth in. Especially when his lips ticked up in a shit-eating grin as he teased, "Gotta say, I'm a little disappointed. Glue seems very… un-witchy."

Pressing his lips together in his own attempt to hide his growing grin, Steve playfully questioned, "Are you calling me boring, Buck?"

Blushing, Bucky coyly corrected, "Not boring. Maybe predictable."

Good-humoredly rolling his eyes, Steve muttered, "Ya never thought I was predictable before."

"Yes, I did," Bucky whispered, standing up. Cradling the broken porcelain pieces in his hands, and Steve could see the metaphor that perhaps those pieces could represent his heart. His heart was always in good hands with Bucky. He had known that for years. Possibly even from the moment that they first met. Sure, they had been toddlers, but sometimes the soul just --

A _thud_ sounds in front of him, and Steve looks up from the broken pieces to find Bucky no longer in the protected space. Instead, he laid there on the wooden floor with the ornament pieces broken into even smaller bits, shattered around him. Clearly on his way to the kitchen. Where the glue would be.

Then, Bucky started screaming in agony that made Steve's blood run cold.


	16. Sixteen

**Sixteen:**

"Bucky!" Sam yelled, about to jump over the salt barrier.

Steve wasn't about to let that happen though. Already two out of his three childhood friends were in trouble, he wasn't about to have all of them suffering. So, he harshly pushed Sam out of the way, further into the secured family room, and only afterwards prayed that Sam wouldn't hit his head on the edge of the fireplace or any other sharp furniture. Sam was safer there anyway. Especially with Natasha using candle wax to draw sigils on the hardwood floor. Not wasting anymore time, Steve grabbed a handful of salt and hopped over the barrier himself to get to Bucky.

Nothing else was on Steve's mind except to get to Bucky. Get to Bucky and save Bucky. Bucky was all that mattered. Steve had known that lone fact deeper and more fiercely than he knew anything else.

However, reaching Bucky to save him, seemed to be easier said than done. Especially when, once across the protective barrier, Steve immediately, harshly, crashed to the hardwood floor. His hand opening and the salt spilling forth, being rendered absolutely pointless now.

The air knocked out of him, Steve rolled onto his back. Realizing that it was going to be a lot harder than he had originally assumed. Especially when Steve could feel his own anxieties flare to frightening heights that he hadn't experienced since the night of his terrigenesis.

Due to the Yule Lads messing with them, the atmosphere was tense. Too tense. Steve was going to be sick. He could feel the bile rising up through his throat. He needed to turn his head before he choked on his own vomit, if he did vomit.

 _Calm down_ , Steve reminded himself as he attempted to breathe. Only, his lungs felt weak as he struggled to inhale deeply the way that he had gotten used to. For a moment, Steve actually wished that he had kept his inhaler. If only for times like --

An ear shattering scream broke through Steve's thoughts and struck fear straight to the center of Steve's very being. Instantly snapping his attention to across the room where Bucky was.

Bucky was still on the floor, but had managed to curl in on himself as he covered his head and ducked his face tightly into his knees. Rips in Bucky's clothes revealed fresh blood and open gashes. And Steve couldn't just lay there while the Yule Lads attacked the most important person in his life.

Taking in a grounding breath, Steve mustered up all of the strength he gained from his terrigenesis and pushed himself off the ground. His footing wasn't very secure, but he refused to let that stop him. Even once his first steps towards Bucky revealed that Steve had gravely underestimated the power of the Yule Lads.

Almost as though he had stones in his pockets while wading through water, Steve refused to back down. On unsteady, jelly-like legs, brought Steve back to those all too familiar feelings. Brought back that scrawny, scrappy shrimp that pushed himself even though he knew his limits. Brought back how it always ended with Steve's chronic fatigue winning and Bucky giving him a piggy back ride home.

And Steve would rather be torn apart and eaten alive by Grýla herself, than to give up.

So, Steve pushed himself more. Holding himself up with the wall as he crossed the room. Eventually, reaching Bucky and dropping to his knees from exhaustion. His mind unable to think of another plan than the immediate one floating around his foggy brain.

Covering Bucky's body with his own, Steve shielded as much of Bucky's body as he could. For the first time since getting his newer, bigger body, Steve was truly grateful for his larger frame.

Steve's eyes stinging from the wind whipping his hair into his eyes. Eyes stinging from unshed tears as his hands fluttered around Bucky's body, unsure where to start in hopes of healing him. Placing his hands on ragged pieces of clothing and broken skin, Steve put all of his remaining energy into clotting Bucky's blood.

Then, a sharpness sliced across Steve's back, causing him to tense and involuntarily let out a groan of agony. Feeling the blood roll over his side and wet his shirt, he shuddered. He couldn't imagine what Bucky was feeling. Bucky must have been absolutely miserable. And he didn't deserve that.

This was Steve's fault. If Steve had just forgotten Bucky, and had followed Alveus's plan, than none of this would have happened. Sam wouldn't be having a meltdown. Sharon wouldn't be on Grýla's holiday dinner menu. Bucky wouldn't be bleeding out on his floor.

Bracing himself for another slash from the Yule Lads, Steve held onto Bucky tighter. Briefly, Steve was positive that he was crossing some line and considered pulling back. But Bucky surprised him by removing his hands from his face and wrapping them around Steve's; holding him closer.

Inhaling deeply, Steve felt lighter than he had all night. Especially when he felt a coldness on his back. Right over the deep cut that Steve could feel stitching itself together. He knew that with his abilities, he'd be able to heal faster than he used to. But he didn't expect this. No, it was something else. _Someone_ else. It felt all too paternal. Like a comforting hand rubbing soothing circles after a nightmare.

"Steve?" Bucky softly questioned, his brows furrowed as he looked up. But not at Steve. Past Steve. At someone else.

Since Bucky was looking, Steve decided to too. Turning his head, Steve was relieved to find Sarah. One ghostly hand on her baby-less baby bump while the other was outreached towards him. Realizing that she was the one touching his back lifted a weight off of Steve that he hadn't realized he had been carrying.

Bucky's voice, low and full of confused wonder, brought forth new questions for Steve as he declared, "You look like her."


	17. Seventeen

**Seventeen:**

The longer that Steve stared at the spirit, the more similarities he found. Same cornsilk blond hair. Same blue eyes. Same oval shaped face. Steve couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed it before. After all, when he was smaller, fragile, it would've been like looking in a mirror.

When Sarah's hand soothingly rubbed along her abdomen, Steve's eyes dropped there. His heart had ached before for her. Attempting to help her at Stark Orchards. Having nightmares of her delivery that caused her death. Finding her in his closet before finding that long-forgotten baby picture of him that, at first, he didn't even recognize as being himself.

Steve should've fit the pieces together sooner. But only now that the house was no longer shaking from the Yule Lads' destruction did Steve start to think. Only now, after Bucky's revelatory comment did Steve finally understand.

Or at least start to.

He hoped.

Sitting on the floor next to a puddle of Bucky's blood, Steve stared at Sarah. Tears started building in his eyes while his lower lip quivered. Right here, Steve would learn something that would cause the rest of his world to crash down around him. Something that would put his past in a different light. Yet, that wasn't enough to make Steve turn a blind eye.

Reluctantly, Steve tore his gaze away from the spirit in front of him to glance over at the family room. Again, Steve was thankful that Natasha was there. Especially with the care that she used when bandaging Bucky.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat that felt like a rock, Steve redirected his eyes to Sarah. He wasn't sure if he should be, but he was relieved to see her same eyes looking right back at him. Sarah's eyes were soft, warm. A stark contrast to the air that cultivated around her hand when she lifted it to touch Steve's cheek. He wished that he could feel her slender hand. Wished that he could cover her hand in his.

Desperately, Steve wished that he could be wrapped in her arms as he unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and quietly questioned, "You're _my_ mom?"

"Yes," Sarah's soft honey-sweet voice confirmed, shocking Steve. He had expected her to somehow write a message, or just nod. But hearing her calm voice inspired a deep ache in his chest.

Steve's lip quivered as all the questions running through his mind fought to be the one he asked. Especially since he wasn't sure if he'd ever get another chance to do this. What if this was it? What if he never saw Sarah again? What if she just wanted him to know that she was his mom and now she could finally rest? What should he ask? What did he want to know the most?

"What --" Steve cleared his throat. No, that wasn't how he wanted know. He moved, to get more comfortable and restarted, "How --" much better "-- how did… I… Uh, how did I, um, end up… here?"

Sarah pressed her lips together, seemingly to keep tears from spilling over the rims of her eyes. Steve wasn't sure if it was possible for a ghost to cry, but Sarah seemed so sad that he wouldn't be surprised if an echo of a tear slid down her cheek.

As she opened her mouth to speak, the front door opened. Sarah's head snapped over to where Loki stood. Loki stood, slack-jawed as he took in the spirit from earlier, the one that he hadn't gotten a good look of earlier. Only this time -- thankfully -- she didn't disappear. Instead, she sadly smiled at him. Still rubbing soothing circles over her stomach. The motion adding some comfort to Steve. Wishing that he could've felt that in the womb and remembered it now.

"Sarah?" Loki finally questioned in disbelief as he entered further into their house. His eyes quickly dotted over different parts of her. From her eyes to her abdomen to her mouth to her hand to the blood that still appeared fresh on her clothing and thighs. At first it had seemed like Loki assumed she had come out of hiding, when he realized that she, instead, was visiting from beyond the grave, Loki briefly clenched his jaw. Quietly, he said, "You deserved better."

"Perhaps," Sarah half-agreed, and then broke Steve's heart even more, "I knew true happiness, if only for a little while."

Steve looked up at Loki and accused, "You knew?"

"No," Loki fiercely defended himself. Then, looking back at Sarah, Loki softened his tone, "I can see when someone's death was untimely and unneeded."

Steve's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched, getting ready for a fight. Before he could, he felt that coldness return to his skin, and turned back to Sarah. A frown stretched at his lips and he asked, "How did I get here?"

"I made a deal," Sarah simply answered. A deal. She made a deal. Signed her fate. Steve went to glare at Loki again, but she continued, "Not with him.

"Joey and I wanted a big family," Sarah admitted, smiling sadly at Steve. Her hand softly stroked down her abdomen, "When that didn't seem to be a reality, I couldn't bare losing another baby and sought out Hela. She was the best midwife. Never lost a baby out of all the ones she delivered."

At that, Steve glanced at Loki again. There was a fondness to the solemn way that he was watching Sarah. Truly captivated by Sarah while also missing Hela. Steve could only assume though. But it would align with Steve and his own longing for the mothers he had never known. One, he heard stories about all his life; the other having been kept a secret, unwittingly.

"We had heard the rumors about magic all our lives, and we were running out of resources," Sarah's voice cracked, regaining Steve's attention. Taking in a shaky breath, Sarah recounted, "Hela offered us another avenue. One that was foolproof. And I was desperate. Nothing else mattered. So, I took it. I put up the orchard and I didn't care. All that mattered was you."

Steve clenched his jaw in hopes of stopping the tears building in his eyes. Grinding his teeth so severely that he could taste blood. But he couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to cry. Not right now. Not as flashbacks from the nightmare came back to him. How the orchard was rotting and dying while Sarah gave her life for his.

Sarah placed her hand on the side of Steve's face, causing a single tear to escape as she affectionately confessed, "You are everything that I and your father wanted in a son. He would've been so proud of you. _I_ am so proud of you."

"You are?" Steve managed to squeak out.

Nodding, Sarah confirmed, "I am, Little One. You were worth everything. Hela was the right person to entrust you to, and you've flourished so beautifully here. I only wish that I had had more time. That I had more time now."

Only then did Steve realize that there was no reason for Sarah to still be haunting him. She could now rest. And he hoped that she did. That she could move on peacefully. Alveus knows she deserved it.

"Thank you," Steve sincerely stated, wishing that just for a moment, he'd be able to feel her. Feel more than the cold from her hand on his cheek. More than the breeze from her stroking across his cheeks in an attempt to wipe his tears. To hold her petite frame for the one and only time in his entire life.

"You're a good boy, Steve. Be sure to keep that quality as you grow into a man," Sarah leaned forward and kissed Steve's forehead. For a moment, Steve could imagine the warm press of her pillowy lips. So quiet that Steve wasn't sure he heard her, Sarah whispered, "I love you. I always have. I always will."

Squeezing his eyes tightly, Steve hoped that would prevent the tears from sliding down his cheeks. Unfortunately, the dam broke and there was no stopping his hot, salty tears from streaming down his face. All his life he wished he could've met his mom. Sure, he got his wish. But now she was leaving. And Steve just wasn't prepared for it.

"I'll always be with you," Sarah reassured, with a touch to his chest.

The coldness spreading where Steve assumed Sarah's hand was pressed, and he opened his eyes. Getting one last glance of Sarah's smiling face before she disappeared completely.

Letting the last of his restrain drop, Steve crumpled. Folding into himself as a desperate attempt to hold himself together. Mourning a mother that he didn't even know he had until that day. But still feeling the loss of her all the way to his bones. Scratch that, it went deeper. The revelation uprooted everything that Steve knew about his life and himself as a person.

"I'm sorry," Loki said, kneeling beside Steve and placing a comforting hand on his back in hopes of soothing him.

That wasn't what Steve wanted though. Steve jerked out of his uncle's grip and rushed out of the house. Not stopping until he slipped in the snow. Falling harshly on his ass, Steve just sat there. Not finding any reason to get out of the cold, damp spot he was in. Briefly, Steve wished that the snow would keep falling and just bury him until he was frozen completely.


	18. Eighteen

**Eighteen:**

Losing track of time, Steve startled when he felt a blanket wrap around his shoulders. Nearly jumping right out of his skin as he quickly turned to look at Bucky. Of course, it would be Bucky. And of course, he would be muttering, "Gonna catch pneumonia, punk."

"I don't think you understand just how improbable that is," Steve answered through chattering teeth.

"Improbable or not," Bucky said, taking a seat on the ground next to Steve, "It's still not good to be out here."

"Yule Lads are gone, Buck," Steve reassured, wanting to wrap the blanket around Bucky since his mortal body was far more fragile than Steve's enhanced body was now. But Bucky was smart and wore his jacket.

"I wasn't talking about them," Bucky gave Steve a side-way glance.

Normally, Steve would love having Bucky's eyes on him. But right now, all he could do was numbly stare out at the old swing-set. He and Bucky had spent most of their childhood playing on that rusted beast. It would probably crumble beneath itself if the wind picked up enough. And for a moment, Steve thought about using his abilities to manipulate the flurries so that would happen. Break down all the things that Steve would never get back in one day. Maybe it would hurt less.

Softly, Bucky said, "It actually makes sense."

Not tearing his gaze away from the swing-set, Steve numbly asked, "What does?"

"Your mom," Bucky confirmed, gaining Steve's attention and looking to be testing out those words. Admittedly, Steve had been doing the same, so he waited for Bucky to continue.

When Bucky didn't though, Steve questioned, "What about her?"

"It makes sense now," Bucky shrugged, "You look like her." Tilting his head behind them to the house, he gestured, "The pictures I've seen of your --" he paused, clearly not wanting to say _parents_ since they recently discovered Steve's real heritage and carefully chose "-- dad and Hela, you didn't look anything like them. I mean, sure you could be like Teddy and how he looks like Great Uncle Ernie. Which, I guess that makes sense since Ernie takes after Great Grandma Rosa. Which is so unfair, I mean --"

"Buck," Steve's brows furrowed, trying to get Bucky back on track, but not being able to hide the smile tugging at his lips as he watched Bucky.

Shaking his head, as though that would shake his thoughts, Bucky conceded, "You have her eyes."

Sniffling, Steve nodded and wetly chuckled, "Yeah, I missed that before. Guess it was the whole being haunted thing that made me not connect the dots."

"Oh, so just because of the _whole being haunted thing_?" Bucky teased.

Playfully rolling his eyes, Steve bumped his shoulder against Bucky's. It was shocking how easy it was to fall into this pattern with Bucky. Bucky must've felt it too because the grin that tugged at his lips also tugged at Steve's heart. Steve knew that Bucky wanted them to be together. Knew that Bucky would take him back.

Seemingly having the same thoughts as him, Bucky leaned forward. The way that made Steve's stomach dip and his body to feel like he was overheating. All Steve had to do was close that distance and everything would be the way it was. The way Steve wanted it to be.

However, Steve knew that they couldn't do this though. Not now. Not after so many of the people he cared about had been in harm's way. Especially not due to him and his decisions. All Steve wanted was to keep them safe. To keep Bucky safe. Even when it meant breaking Bucky's heart as well as his own.

Swallowing down his heartbreak, Steve softly stated, "Buck."

Looking up at Steve with hooded eyes, Bucky breathed, "Yeah?"

"We can't do this," Steve powered through, even though every fiber of his being was begging him not to.

Leaning back, Bucky narrowed his eyes and angrily accused, "Why? Because of _her_?"

"What?" Steve questioned, feeling the anger start to rise in him to shield his hurt. Briefly clenching his jaw, Steve harshly corrected, "It has nothing to do with Nat."

"Yeah, okay," Bucky stood and sarcastically agreed, causing Steve's anger to boil in his blood.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve snipped, standing as well.

"I don't know," Bucky sneered, seemingly growing just as angry as Steve was as he threw the question back at him, "What's it mean, Steve? You bring some girl home for the holidays and then have the balls to kiss her in front of me, after you told me that you had to figure things out. What am I supposed to think?"

"I do have to figure things out," Steve defended himself desperately wanting Bucky to understand that. Then, the rest of what Bucky said caught up with him and his anger blossomed again as he harshly explained, "And _she_ kissed _me_ because she assumed that that's what mortals do when mistletoe is around!"

Bucky simply rolled his eyes, completely infuriating Steve. Especially making Steve's boil as Bucky commented, "Because it's so difficult to understand that it isn't polite to kiss someone in front of their heartbroken boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend," Steve corrected, only to regret it as soon as his mind caught up with his mouth. Wide eyed, Steve quickly clasped his hands over his mouth as though he could somehow force himself to swallow the words.

Only, it was too late.

Hoping to somehow make it right, Steve took a step towards Bucky. But Bucky took a step back; nearly falling on his ass in the process. Tears started streaming down his cheeks, and Bucky quietly stated, "I know what happened. I don't need _you_ to keep reminding me. After all, _I_ didn't get to fuck off to Hogwarts, away from everything that's _us,_ the way you did."

And Bucky was right. Steve got to escape. The only thing that kept pestering and poking at Steve's memories was his own damn mind. Everything that could remind him of Bucky was left here. Suddenly, Steve wanted nothing more than to go back to the academy.

Steve knew that he should've said something. But he couldn't. He didn't know how he could help Bucky. So, he just stood there in the snow, watching as Bucky left.


	19. Nineteen

**Nineteen:**

Bucky's broken heart froze him more than the knee-high snow that he trudged through on his way to his truck. He wanted to get as far away from Steve and his house as fast as possible. Not even going through the house; simply walking around it. He didn't want to see the destruction left because of his stupid decision and some _fucking Yule Lads_. But more than that, he didn't want to be around _her_.

Then again, he'd have to at least knock on the door since Sam rode with him.

Trying to muster up enough strength to knock on the door, Bucky took in a deep breath and wiped away his tears. Luckily though, Bucky didn't need to walk back up and face the Odinsons. When he rounded the corner, Bucky found Sam leaning against his truck.

Just like that, the breath rushed out of him. Feeling more relief in that moment than he had in the past few months. Even before Steve's birthday, when Bucky had only sensed that something was wrong. In this moment, he realized just how much he had been bottling up and pushing down beneath his calm, comforting boyfriend exterior.

Tears freely falling down his face, Bucky crashed into Sam. Tightly wrapping his arms around his friend and finally breaking down the way he had been avoiding doing so for what felt like an eternity.

"Hey," Sam softly reassured, hugging Bucky back, "Sharon's okay. Loki got to her in time and she's home safe."

Although Bucky was glad to hear that, that wasn't at the forefront of his mind. _How selfish am I?_ Bucky couldn't help but question himself. Here, he should've been overjoyed with the fact that one of his friends, one of his best friends, but he couldn't think about that. He should've been only thinking of that though. But he was breaking.

"That's not why you're upset," Sam correctly assumed. Soothingly, Sam rubbed his hand over Bucky's back and suggested, "How about we go back to my place and watch movies? Like planned?"

Sniffling, Bucky nodded and pulled away from Sam. Wiping the tears from his face with his cold hands, Bucky winced and quickly walked around to the other side of the truck. Opening the driver side door, a soft, " _psst_ ," came from the end of the driveway, and Bucky jumped. His skeleton possibly on its way out of his body as he whipped his head around to find Thor.

Cautiously, the large blond approached him and gestured towards the house, "Loki home?"

"Yeah," Bucky nodded, looking up at the house again too. Before flinching at his own heart break and returning his gaze to Thor, "Sharon's saved."

"Damn," Thor clenched his hands into fists briefly. Bucky's eyes went wide because, sure, they might just be _mortals_ , but he never assumed Thor could be so cavalier.

As if sensing Bucky's thoughts, Thor quickly amended, "I meant about Loki being home. Not about Sharon. I'm glad she wasn't harmed."

"That's because she's your favorite," Bucky teased.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he playfully quipped, "You've been paying attention." Nervously, he wrung his hands as he admitted, "I'm actually nervous about explaining to Loki why Bruce thought it was the smartest decision to put the Yule log out instead of letting it go unattended while we all slept."

"Well," Bucky started, only stopping because his voice cracked with the emotion bubbling up inside him again. Clearing his throat, Bucky chose to finish instead of trying to help, "Happy Holidays," and quickly climbed inside the interior of his truck before Thor could say anything else.

Bucky was so adamant about getting away as quick as possible that he barely made sure that Thor was out of the way before he pulled out of the driveway. Just wanting to get away. Unfortunately, as he went to drive down the street towards Sam's house, Bucky caught a sight of Steve. Still standing in the snow where Bucky had left him.

Despite being heartbroken, Bucky couldn't help but feel his heartstrings pull at him while the rest of his being yelled at him to go check on Steve. Go and make sure that Steve was okay. It was instinctive at this point. Having been doing just that for most of his life. Not remembering a moment before having Steve as a friend, and much to his current chagrin, Bucky still didn't regret that.

Then, before Bucky could debate parking his truck and rushing back over to Steve, the back door opened. Natasha pulled her hair out from beneath the collar of her winter jacket and stopped on the porch steps. All she had to do was hold out her hand towards Steve. _That's all she had to do!_ Just like that, Steve was making his way back towards the house and Bucky started driving. Not needing to see Steve bury his face in her shoulder as she comforted him the way that Bucky should've been comforting him.

Bucky's heart clenched in his chest, and he could feel the tears building in his eyes again. Almost blurring his vision as he finally got to Sam's house. Quicker than he assumed, but Bucky wasn't going to complain about it. Instead, he was grateful.

With the truck in park, Bucky leaned forward to rest his forehead on the steering wheel. Tears were once again streaming over his still-wet face. Bucky felt pathetic. And it didn't help that Sam simply sat there comforting him.

"C'mon," Sam finally said, playfully tugging at Bucky's jacket.

Reluctantly, Bucky lifted his head from his hands, but had a hard time doing anything other than letting his arms drop. Of course, Sam exaggerated an eye roll and reached for Bucky's hand. It was a normal thing that had happened at least a hundred times over their friendship. Only, this time was different.

As soon as Sam's warm skin touched his, something shifted. His eyes glazing over as visions of more touching blocked his sight. Hand holding in the hallways. Lacing their fingers on rides home from school. Wrapping an arm around Sam's shoulders and pulling him close at the movies. Having Sam wrap his arm around _his_ shoulders and being pulled in tight in the cafeteria. School dances with Sam's grin directed his way. Dancing in the kitchen as they helped Winifred with dinner. Twirling Darlene around the kitchen as Sam baked cookies.

Smiles.

And kisses.

And a future without Steve.

**To be continued…**


End file.
